Beastly
by Yubbzy
Summary: Tale as old as time, true as it can be. Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly. Just a little change – small, to say the least. Both a little scared, neither one prepared. BATB!Faberry, if you didn't catch that already.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't think I can even say the ideas are mine, but _Glee_ and _Beauty and the Beast_ sure as hell aren't.

Hello, all! If you didn't miss-click, thanks for taking a chance at my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic. Reviews aren't necessary, but they're pretty cool and let me know that my anxiety and low self-esteem brought on by my writing are, also, unnecessary. If you wish to contact me, for any reason, just head over to tumblr, since that's where I spend most of my time. My username there is the same as my username here. Special shout out to tumblr user Teadalek for unknowingly implanting this idea in my head AND for allowing me to use her awesome graphic for the cover art. Let's just get on with it, shall we?

* * *

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a beautiful princess with flowing golden hair who lived in a castle just as beautiful as she. She was constantly showered with praise by the people of her kingdom, but nobody knew if it was out of adoration or fear. For while the princess was full of beauty and grace, she was also manipulative and unkind. An angry child raised by cold royalty.

One night, during a particularly cold and bleak winter, there was a mysterious visitor outside the castle's door. One of the princess' servants slowly opened it to reveal a poor elderly woman, shivering from the cold.

Her eyes bored into the young man, wide and begging. "Please, sir, this is very important. I come looking for the princess and ask that you fetch her at once," the woman's voice came out in a terrible stutter that accompanied her chattering teeth.

"Of course, madam," the servant replied. "Please, come inside or you'll catch your death. Stay here, I'll be back shortly."

He quickly strode through the castle's winding hallways and into the West Wing, to the royal library, where the princess spent most of her time. He gave the door a quick knock before going inside.

"Your highness, there-"

"Kurt! I thought I told you never to interrupt me while I'm reading," the princess growled, slamming her book closed and throwing it on the nearest table.

"Yes, and I apologize greatly, Miss," the servant's voice went higher with every step the princess took towards him, "but there is an old woman waiting for your presence. She-she says it's important."

The princess pursed her lips and raised her brow before pushing past her servant, only slightly intrigued to see who dared approach her castle. When she saw the elderly woman, her face scrunched up with disgust. She was dirty and her clothes were ragged. How dare she even _think_ to set foot in such a pristine place as the princess' home?

"You there," she called out, grabbing the woman's attention.

The old woman bowed slightly when the princess came toward her, and reached a hand into her tattered cloak.

"Your majesty, I beg of you. This winter is especially brutal, and I have no home. Please, let me stay here, at least for the night. I can't give you much in return, but I have this."

From her cloak, the woman pulled out a single gardenia, beautiful and fully in bloom, despite the tragic winter.

The princess looked down at the flower in boredom, "I thought you said this was important. Leave this place."

"I don't understand why you won't just let me stay the night. I'm sure you have plenty of room to spare here."

The princess gave a humorless laugh as she glowered at the woman, "The room is not the issue. I just don't want your repulsive presence tarnishing my castle, so take your flower and go. You are of no worth to me, and my patience grows thin."

Instead, the woman stood her ground and looked the princess dead in the eye, "You'd be wise not to be deceived by appearances, child. True beauty, true worth, can only be found within."

"I don't need your life lessons, old woman. I will not ask you again, leave this place."

At the princess' final rejection, the old woman sighed. But instead of walking back out into the cold, she simply pulled down the hood of her old cloak. A strange light came up from the ground and swirled around the woman, engulfing her body. And when the light disappeared, where the old beggar stood, there was now a beautiful young woman with fiery red hair – one of the enchantresses from the land.

When the princess recognized the woman, she tried to apologize, but it was too late.

"I have seen your true form, tonight, princess. You are vain at your best, heartless at your worst. Your anger has eaten away at your soul, and now you are no more than a beast. I hoped it would be easy for you to learn your lesson, but you've given me no choice."

The princess tried to defend herself, but the enchantress wouldn't hear another word. She retrieved her wand from her now spotless cloak and aimed it at the maiden. And before the princess or her servant could do anything to stop her, she cast her spell.

Great light surrounded the princess, and she howled in pain as she felt herself transform. When the spell was done, Kurt could merely look on in horror at what had become of the princess.

"What have you done?" the princess asked, her voice carrying a new rugged tone.

"See for yourself," the enchantress replied while retrieving another item from underneath her cloak.

She held up a small mirror for the princess. And in its reflection, the maiden saw just what the enchantress had described; no more than a beast.

Before the enchantress left the castle for good, she cursed it, and all the servants inside. She promised the curse would be broken, and all would be restored, once the princess learned to love and be loved in return. She left behind the mirror and gardenia, both items enchanted by the woman's magic. The mirror would help the princess see the outside world. And as for the gardenia – as time went on, the flower would wilt, and the petals would fall. If she could not find love by her 21st birthday, as the last petal fell, she and her castle would remain cursed forever.

In a flood of rage and shame brought on by her new form, the princess destroyed everything that reminded her of her past self. Paintings went to shreds underneath her claws, mirrors shattered by the might of her paws. She ordered her servants to lock away the library, because while she couldn't destroy it, she couldn't bear to look at it again.

She locked herself inside the castle, using it as a personal cage as day after day, she grew more and more animalistic. As years went on, nobody came to the castle, and everyone lost hope of the spell ever being broken. For even if someone did visit the castle, who could ever learn to love a beast?


	2. Chapter 1

It was morning, and the sun was just starting to rise above the quiet village. The only sounds were of birds chirping, and mechanical whirring that came from a small cottage on the far edge of town. And from that cottage appeared a beautiful young woman, loose brunette locks swaying with the wind. Quietly, she sang to herself as she followed the path into town, ready to start her day just like she always did: with a visit to the library.

It was just an average day in town. Like every day, the woman waved to the passing baker, bread tray in hand. There were shoppers and storekeepers, townspeople milling about. Despite the day being ever uneventful, the woman smiled. It wasn't like the town was known for big news, anyway, so she begrudgingly accepted it in spite of her boredom.

It was a little town where everybody knew everybody. Even so, no matter what the size of the town was, everyone would _still_ know Rachel.

As always, everyone said hello to her as she walked towards them, then whispered about her as she passed. They thought her odd; an odd girl raised by an even odder man. Rachel tried to pay them no mind. She'd tell herself that they were all just jealous because she had ambition and was destined for something great, and her father was a brilliant inventor. They thought her and her father were crazy for wanting more than the simple, provincial life.

And, yes, she talked to some sheep, once, but it was simply out of excitement from hitting her highest note yet, and nobody else wanted to hear about it.

Rachel got to the library at her usual time, and started browsing her frequented shelves. When she grew tired of her usual fanciful tales of adventure and epic love, she would read books about her first true love – music. Seeing such a book in the stack of new additions brought Rachel out of her dreary disposition. After shared pleasantries with the old librarian, Rachel thanked him and went on her way. With her nose thoroughly buried in the book, she started to make her way back home. That is, until, on this rather ordinary day, a rather unordinary thing happened.

When she got to the edge of town, Rachel felt a presence start to follow her, and then walk right beside her, towering over her and blocking the sun. She was about to say something when a rather large hand plucked the book from her grasp. With her field of vision no longer blocked, she could see that it was Finn who had been following her, along with his trusty, and much shorter, sidekick, Blaine.

"Good morning, Rachel," Finn greeted with a lopsided grin.

"Good morning, Finn," Rachel replied in a polite tone, eyeing the man as he flipped through her book.

Most of the people in town considered Finn to be the most handsome and most eligible bachelor the town had. Rachel could certainly see the appeal, in fact she always had. She could admit to admiring him from afar a few times, and even fancying the idea of becoming his wife. But it would never do. Rachel wanted adventure, she wanted to experience life to the best of her abilities, and Finn…Finn wanted three or four children in a cabin full of dead animals. Besides, there was always _something_ about him that irked Rachel.

When Finn finished flipping through the book, he scowled at it. "How can you read this? The words are too long, and I think some of them are spelled wrong," he muttered.

Yes, that was it.

Rachel rolled her eyes as she grabbed the book from his hands, "Those words that are 'spelled wrong,' as you put it, are in a different language, Finn. This is a book about music, and a lot of the terminology happens to be in a different language. It's just one of the many reasons why I find music so…inspiring."

She could have gone on, but when she looked up she noticed that only Blaine was half paying attention, whereas Finn was completely gone and had developed a glazed-over look in his eyes. Instead, she lightly cleared her throat, and that seemed to bring the man out of his stupor.

"I don't see the point in reading unless you absolutely have to," Finn said, furrowing his brow. "Like recipe books. That's what women read, right?" he turned to Blaine, who merely shrugged.

"You are positively primeval, Finn Hudson," Rachel gave a small huff.

"Uh, thanks…I think," Finn accepted the…compliment, his face taking over a semi-constipated look. Rachel was about to continue on her way when Finn wrapped his arm around her, "Listen, I know I don't normally talk to you all the time, or ever, but I noticed you in town today. And I don't agree with everybody who says you're too short or too loud, or too annoying or anything else like that."

With that, Rachel quickly removed Finn's arm and started walking down the path, once again.

"I would _really_ love to continue this conversation, Finn," she lied, "but, you see, I promised my father I'd help him with work."

"I wouldn't waste my time trying to help that flamboyant old bat," Finn mumbled, eliciting a too hardy laugh from his friend.

Rachel spun around and glared up at the men, and was about to deliver a diatribe (that Finn would undoubtedly ignore), but before a word could pass from her lips, an explosion rang out from her cottage. In fear for her father's safety, she raced home, leaving the laughing men to their own devices.

She followed the trail of smoke billowing from the small window in the cellar, eventually getting to the door and calling out for her father as she tried to make it through the debris of failed experiments.

"Everything's fine, I just had a little…mix up," her father replied, and Rachel nearly tripped over his body while gawking at the so-called mix up. She hopped over her father and retrieved a pail of water, then dumped it over the small fire that somehow started by his latest invention.

With a groan and a cough, Hiram brought himself from underneath the machinery and stood to greet his daughter. His hair was graying and his glasses were thick, but he seemed spry for his age. Rachel still worried, though, since her other father seemed spry for his age, too.

"If I wasn't so sure of my remarkable intellect, and ability to fix this piece of junk, this thing would be in the scrap heap in the corner," Hiram said while giving the invention a little kick, causing it to splutter and groan.

Their family had gone through some troubles, recently. While Hiram was once considered a wise inventor, things started to go foul over the past year. Machines kept busting, and his ideas were starting to jumble. While the villagers thought he was losing his mind, Rachel knew his faults came from losing his love.

Leroy had been a kind man who treated Rachel as his own. He started out as solely Hiram's assistant, and to the people outside of their home, that's all he ever was. But over the years he grew to be a good friend to Hiram, and then a lover. He was the calm to Hiram's storm and both his and Rachel's rock. He fell ill one winter's night, while transporting one of Hiram's inventions to a convention in the next town. He never got better.

Now, Rachel helped Hiram whenever she could, which really just meant handing him various tools. She wasn't quite the handy type. Hiram got back under the contraption, wrench in hand, and as always, Rachel stood by the tools, ready to help whenever.

"Dad, do you…do you think we're odd?" the woman asked after a short while.

His voice, along with the struggle of metal against metal, echoed under the contraption, "Odd? Well, no. I mean, except for the obvious things," he chuckled, "Why do you ask?"

Rachel seemed to fade off into her own world, leaving the toolbox behind as she started to pace the cellar as she went into a small rant, "The townspeople were talking again, and I try my best to ignore them and tell myself that they're wrong. But sometimes I just can't help but think that they're _right_, and we are different, and-"

"Hold on, wait, wait," Hiram interrupted his daughter, "of course we're _different_. Rachel, honey, there's nothing wrong with being different. This family has prided itself on being different."

"Maybe. I just feel lonely, like there's nobody for me to talk to."

"Well, what about that Finn boy? He seems…well intentioned."

"Well intentioned or not, whenever that man opens his mouth, he always puts his mud-covered boot in it," Rachel rolled her eyes. "This town might worship the ground he walks on, but he's not the one for me. I just feel like there's something better for me."

The last of her sentence was drowned out by the strange machine sputtering back to life. Hiram jumped to his feet and the both of them partook in a hopping sort of dance as they cheered and the device chopped logs of wood. Rachel helped her father attach the invention to the family horse, and after a long goodbye, he rode off into the sunset, map in hand and dreams of a wonderful future for his daughter flooding his mind.

* * *

The night was an inky black when Hiram discovered that map reading wasn't one of his strong suits. He had been lost for hours but, being as thick-headed as he was, decided to keep moving forward. And perhaps he should have listened to his horse's animal instinct when they came to the fork in the road.

The trees of the forest towered over him, tall and hollow, and he would have felt threatened if they weren't merely dead wood. Even though he had a lantern, he could barely see three inches from his face. His horse was no better, and they both shivered with every twig that cracked under a hoof.

From the depths of the woods, a howl sounded out. And then another. The sound of paws thumping against the cold ground came closer and closer, and the horse bucked and whinnied and galloped in whatever direction he could. No matter what the old man tried, he couldn't calm down his steed. The howls grew louder, and the horse grew wilder. Eventually, he crashed into a wrought iron gate and threw off his master, running off before the wolves could get him.

Hiram watched his horse abandon him before quickly scrambling to the fence. Luckily it was unlocked, and he barged in before any other creature of the night could find him. With a heaved sigh, that quickly transformed into a choked cough, he turned away from the gate, and saw a grand castle in the distance. When he noticed the long, crumbling bridge he had to cross to reach salvation, Hiram almost turned tail and tried to make it back home, but he figured a wolf attack would be more painful than falling to his death. So, with shaky legs, he carefully made his way across the bridge. At the halfway point, he made the mistake of looking over the side and nearly passed out from his ragged nerves. The bottom was nearly pitch black, but even Hiram's old eyes could see the sharp rocks that lie there. He paused to take a couple calming breaths, and then continued onward.

With every step closer, Hiram could see the castle in greater detail. Stone pillars were cracked, the surrounding garden was overrun. Fearsome creatures, gargoyles possibly, stood tall upon the castle, the only things that seemed to be untouched by weather. It appeared as if only crows were brave, or foolhardy, enough to cross the castle's gates. The sight alone charged his nerves, but the shelter of the castle was more than Hiram could turn down.

Once inside, though the castle was shrouded in darkness, Hiram could tell the walls were richly decorated. The slightest step produced an echo, and Hiram hoped that whoever lived here – _if_ someone lived here – was a friendly soul. He wandered down one of the hallways, and didn't know if he should be grateful or nervous when he started to hear whispers. They were unintelligible murmurings at first, but the further he walked down the hall, the easier he could hear.

"We should at least see if he's all right," someone argued in a hushed, ambiguous tone.

"You're _really_ hard up for conversation, aren't you?" came an obviously male, and equally as snarky, reply.

No matter where he looked, Hiram couldn't find a door to where these voices were coming from. He reached over to a table in the hall and picked up the small candelabra that rest there to help him better see in the darkness.

"Hello? I don't mean to intrude, but I was passing through the woods, and some wolves came around. My horse suffered a terrible fright and accidentally left me here. Either that, or he's been plotting against me for months, after that time I tried to use him for farming…"

"I hate to think what her majesty will do, if she finds out you let somebody into the castle," the snarky man whispered.

Hiram twirled around in the hallway, trying desperately to find the source of the voices, "The weather is rather atrocious. I only ask to stay the night and-" his voice cut out as a coughing fit overcame him.

"Oh, you poor man," the high-pitched voice called out seemingly right beside his ear, "of course you may stay the night!"

The other voice groaned while Hiram jumped from surprise, "Hello? Where are you?"

"…Beside you," was the tentative reply, and Hiram turned his head to see nothing but the candelabra.

"Good evening," said the…candelabra. And Hiram passed out.

He awoke shortly afterward in the comfiest chair he had ever sat in, placed in the middle of an elegant parlor. The parlor was dark, like the rest of the castle, save for a small amount of light that came from the floor next to the chair. Where the candelabra stood.

Hiram just stared at it for a moment, almost begging it to move (or to stay perfectly still, he wasn't sure which he would prefer). He inched forward to the edge of the chair and tapped it with his foot, causing the candelabra to hop backwards and bluster out, "I beg your pardon!"

Hiram, too, jumped back, and was enveloped by the cushiony softness of the chair. He warily inspected the candelabra as it stared back at him, "You can talk."

"Yes, I can," the candelabra unnecessarily affirmed. He tried to take on a patient tone, but this strange man was wearing on his patience. Perhaps his friend was right, and they should have just dragged him outside when he passed out.

"Yes, he talks, you talk, the chair would talk if that wouldn't lead to awkwardness and embarrassment for all of us," the snarky voice from before remarked, and before Hiram could reply, the chair started to move. He decided standing would be for the best.

The owner of the voice stepped into the candelabra's light. It was a small grandfather clock, with a dark mahogany finish. His face had a…face, and one of his eyebrows was raised at Hiram, "Now that that's covered, you need to leave."

"Nonsense," the candelabra interrupted. "Don't mind him, sir. Jesse always lacked a certain compassion for others."

"I'm sorry I'm being realistic. I just don't want to be thrown in the dungeon when Miss finds out we've let someone into the castle. Remember the last time you let someone into the castle? That certainly didn't end in our favor."

Hiram watched in astonishment as the two should-have-been inanimate objects bickered with each other, until something came to his attention, "You have names."

The candelabra turned to the man and gave him a small smile, "I don't believe we've properly introduced ourselves. My name is Kurt, and this wretch is Jesse."

"Charmed," Jesse drawled.

There was a squeaking that echoed from the hall outside the parlor, and soon a tea set came in on a rolling cart.

"Oh, splendid, the tea is ready! Thank you, Ms. Jones," Kurt gushed and the teapot nodded as best as she could for being a teapot.

"I heard you've had a nasty night," Ms. Jones said while pouring a cup of tea for Hiram, and he nodded as he experienced another coughing fit. "Well you just drink up and try to get some rest. You're welcome to consider this place like home…at least until Miss wakes from her nap."

"You two need to stop being so overly dramatic," Kurt huffed with a roll of his eyes.

"Says the boy who goes into a frenzy whenever his finish is scuffed," Ms. Jones muttered to Jesse.

Hiram was understandably put off by the tea, but he drank it anyway in a show of politeness. Despite his wariness, the beverage tasted delicious and even helped him relax. At least for a short while.

There was a low growl and a strong breeze came out of nowhere. The objects in the room started to tremble, and before Hiram could ask what was happening, he was lifted off the ground by his neck. It was too dark to see specific details, but Hiram knew that whatever had him wasn't human.

"What are you doing here?" the beast shouted at the man.

Hiram stuttered and coughed, and Kurt tried to explain the situation, "You see, your majesty, he lost his horse while traveling in the woods, and he came upon the castle. He has a terrible cough, and I just thought-"

"Enough!" the beast roared, and everything stood as still as death.

"Please, let me go," Hiram choked. "I didn't mean any harm! I Promise I'll leave as soon as you let me go."

The beast gave a sickeningly saccharine smile, made all the more menacing by the glint of candlelight on sharp fangs, "No, if you want to stay, I'll be happy to house you." The beast bounded out of the parlor, the old man still captured in her paw, leaving a protesting Kurt and Ms. Jones, and a slightly smug Jesse.


	3. Chapter 2

Well, here we are again. I don't know if this matters to anyone, but I already have most of the story completed. I just need to write about four more chapters (including an epilogue), and edit some things before the story is finished. I'm trying to keep the updates a little spaced out so I don't end up making people wait a month for a chapter, or anything. Anyway, if you have any questions or comments, or just want a further look into my psyche, you can check out my tumblr (username yubbzy), or just message/comment here. Hope you've been enjoying what little of the story you've read. And away we go!

* * *

In the village, inside that cottage on the edge of town, Rachel tried to keep herself from worrying about her father. She'd cleaned the cellar, tended to the family's animals, finished reading her recent book, and was currently practicing her scales. Though no matter how busy she kept herself, she couldn't help but wonder how he was fairing at the convention. She was about to give up and embrace her mild panic when a knock came from the door.

She crossed the room and threw the door open. There was Finn, with a queasy sort of smile, standing in front of her, and what appeared to be a small party a little ways behind him. Finn barged into the cottage, lightly pushing Rachel out of the way and closing the door.

"Hello, Rachel," Finn greeted in a shaky voice, rubbing his hands against his pants.

"Hello, Finn. Is there…anything I can help you with?"

The tall man started pacing, all the while grabbing at his clothes and running hands through his hair, often times staring at various reflective surfaces in the cottage. "I've been thinking…"

"Well, that isn't like you at all," Rachel muttered.

"I know, I know…but there's something that's been annoying me for days."

Suddenly, Finn stopped in front of Rachel, so close to her that she nearly broke her neck to look at his face. Still, she gave him a pleasant smile, as if to coax him to carry on with his business.

"You should be my wife," he stated as if that were all the explanation she needed.

In silence, they stood in the middle of the cottage; awkward smiles and sweaty, meaty hands and a nearly broken neck.

A flatly spoken, "What," was Rachel's only response.

"Marry me," Finn said as he grabbed Rachel's hands. "You and I are the most eligible bachelors in the village. Or, at least I am. And I think we would get along great together. For us to not marry is simply…nonsensible!"

"I think the word you're looking for is 'insensible,' Finn. Actually, I think the word you're looking for is 'nonsensical,' but I suppose either work fine." Rachel seemed to have lost him with her miniature ramble, but after she gave him a tight smile and raised her eyebrows, he seemed to realize that she was done.

"So you agree!" Finn happily exclaimed as he started to drag Rachel to the door. "Then we should hurry, the whole town is waiting!"

With a small _oomph_, Rachel managed to stop Finn just before they got to the door. He turned around, confusion clear on his face, and attempted to listen as Rachel explained herself.

"Finn, while I am incredibly flattered by all of this, I just don't see us working out. And don't you think this is moving too fast? We haven't gone on a date, yet. We haven't even kissed!"

"We'll have plenty of time for dating after the wedding, but if you really can't wait for a kiss…"Finn eagerly leaned forward in an attempt to kiss the beauty, and before she could clearly plan out her escape, Rachel quickly dodged the man and opened the cottage door.

Finn clumsily fell forward, past Rachel, through the doorway, and onto his face. The crowd outside stopped what they were doing and stared at the man as Rachel quickly slammed and locked the door. Blaine hurried to Finn's side and attempted to help him up and dust him off, but Finn just pushed the shorter man away.

"I guess it didn't go so well, huh?" Blaine asked, and Finn just glared down at him and walked away, leaving Blaine to quickly follow.

Rachel blew her bangs off her forehead with a strong puff of air, thankful to hear her unexpected guests packing up and leaving. Who did that pig-headed brute think he was, practically demanding that she settle down in some no name town like this one? Though, Rachel supposed she should thank him, since his stunt helped take her mind off of her father, if only for a little while. When she was certain that everyone had left, Rachel carried on with her chores, grabbing a bucket of feed and heading outside to visit with the animals.

While outside, she raved and ranted and quite possibly frightened the chickens. She was meant for things beyond this little town, and she knew it. She just wished that somebody else besides her or her father would see it. From a distance, she heard a faint gallop, and she wondered who would possibly want to bother her, this time. The gallop quickly increased in volume as the family horse made his way to Rachel.

"Philippe," Rachel happily called out. At the first sight of the horse, she was overcome with relief, but when she saw that her father was nowhere in sight, panic began to swell within her.

She raced toward Philippe and noticed that her father's machine was still loaded onto the horse's cart, left battered from the journey. The horse's spooked behavior calmed some as Rachel approached him, allowing her to unhook the cart from his harness.

She gently patted his muzzle as he huffed out slightly distressed breaths, "Philippe, what happened? Where's dad?"

The horse shook out his mane and turned away from Rachel, heading back to the path he came from. Rachel understood what was happening and ran after the horse, mounting him and letting him carry her down the trail, hopefully to where her father was.

* * *

The trip took longer than necessary, since Philippe was a little wary to go back down the path. The night had crept closer and closer as they traveled, and Rachel wasn't sure what time it was when they reached their destination. A gasp wedged into Rachel's throat as she gaped at the castle off in the distance. Why she wasn't aware of its existence until now, she didn't know. True, the castle was sure to have seen better days, but it still stood tall and proud with a certain obscure elegance.

As she and Philippe neared the castle's gate, she noticed there were obvious signs of struggle. The lock to the gate was open, and Rachel hoped that that only meant good things for her father. She grabbed a hold of Philippe's reins and pulled the protesting horse to the gate.

"Come now, Philippe, we have to find Dad, and I'm not leaving you here. Who knows what might get to you."

With the memory of the wolves, Philippe galloped past Rachel and into the castle grounds. Rachel closed the gate and moved forward, observing the overgrown gardens of rose and witch-hazel that were surely once beautiful things. Scum covered the tops of fountains, and a few crows stared at her from the tops of the fountains' decorations. She shook off the feeling of being judged by them as she trudged forward into the castle, leaving Philippe behind.

The disrepair of the outside did not match the castle inside, Rachel realized, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Inside, it was the type of castle she dreamt of when she was a little girl. She would imagine her very own prince charming that would sweep into her life and whisk her and her father away to his home, where she'd spend her days happily performing for royalty. When she brought herself back to the present, she realized that that was far from her current situation.

She held her breath and picked a hallway to start with. She called out to her father as she slowly explored the castle, but only ever heard her echo in reply. Wherever she walked, she always had to ignore that bizarre sense of being watched. Eventually, she came upon a hallway where lush red carpet gave way to cold cobblestone. She lightly swallowed, and with shaky feet, followed the path into an encroaching darkness far deeper than the rest of the castle.

Up against the wall, she followed the winding walkway until she found a heavy wooden door. Rachel pressed her ear close against it and focused. When she heard a familiar hacking cough, she barged into the room.

Much like the hallway, the dank room was shrouded in darkness, save for a small stream of moonlight coming in through a barred up window. Once again, Rachel called out for her father, only this time her name and a loud cough came in reply. She followed the sound of Hiram's coughing fit, only to find him locked up within a cell, like a caged animal.

Before she could ask him what happened, Hiram reached through the bars and clasped Rachel's hands in his, "Listen to me, Rachel. Before it's too late, you have to get out of here. There's something _wrong_ here."

"I'm not going anywhere until we get you out of here," Rachel protested.

"He stays in the dungeon!" Rachel jumped at the booming voice behind her, and quickly spun around to face the shadowy figure before her.

She was tall – taller than Finn – and intimidating, much like her castle. Her figure was rather burly but definitely female judging by the pitch of her raspy voice. That was all Rachel could tell by the woman's partially hidden presence. And it terrified her.

Despite the chill in her spine warning her to leave now, Rachel stood her ground – albeit in a slightly more submissive nature than before, "Please, ma'am, this is my dad. He's sick, he can't just stay here!"

"Your father is a trespasser and he belongs in the dungeon! And if you don't leave now, you will join him," the woman let out a low growl and Rachel wondered how that was humanly possible.

"Sweetie, everything's going to be fine, I promise. You go and I'll…play dead so she doesn't hurt me."

"Now is not the time for jokes, Dad," Rachel scolded her father before quickly turning back to the woman. "I'll give you anything, just please let him go."

"Someone is going to pay for your father's crime, and if it's not going to be him, then it's going to be you."

The room was tense as both the shadowed woman and Hiram waited for Rachel's reply; Hiram prayed that his daughter would just run away and never look back.

"…I'll do it," Rachel's voice was quiet but sure.

"Rachel, no! What about your future?"

"My future isn't worth risking your life over."

"You're really going to do this?" the woman sounded astonished. She started to step closer to Rachel, but thought better of it when she noticed the strip of moonlight. However, Rachel saw the woman's reluctance and curiosity overcame the rest of her current emotions.

"Step into the light…please," Rachel called out into the darkness. The woman hesitated, and then slowly moved forward, her visage bathed in moonlight. It was a vision that nearly made her scream.

Standing before Rachel was some type of hideous beast. She seemed like a crossbreed of lion, wolf, bear, and possibly more. There was no telling where ungroomed fur ended and thick muscle began. Her overgrown fangs sparkled and had points just as sharp as the horns sprouting from her head. If it weren't for her ability to stand on two legs or talk, Rachel would have thought that this was just another wild beast that belonged in the woods. But the things that struck her the most were the beast's eyes. They were almost feral, bright with anger, but just behind that, there was something there that Rachel couldn't decipher.

At the woman's gawking, the beast seized forward to Hiram's prison. She gripped the door in her gigantic paw and ripped it from its hinges.

With a deafening roar, the beast yelled, "_Get out!_" and she threw the door across the room. Hiram scrambled to freedom, looking back one last time, only to see his daughter being picked up by the beast, and he swore that wouldn't be the last time he saw his Rachel.

The beast's movements were swift and deliberate as she carried Rachel out of the dungeon. She tried to focus on her surroundings, but her body jostled with every step the beast took. She thought she saw something following them down the halls, but she wasn't certain until she heard them calling out to the bounding monster.

"Don't hurt her!" was yelled by a feminine, but decidedly male, voice.

"Do you always have to act like an animal?" questioned a man.

"She could be the one!" a woman happily shouted to no one in particular.

Before she knew it, Rachel found herself in a simple bedroom, luxurious compared to her room in the cottage. She was gently placed onto the carpeted floor, and silently thanked whoever scolded the beast during their trip. Just outside the bedroom door, there were quiet murmurings, but blood was rushing too fast through Rachel's head to make anything out. The beast turned her head to the noise and quickly turned back to Rachel.

"You will sleep here. I would…" the murmurings started again, and the beast quickly turned towards them and back again, "enjoy it if you treated this place as your home." Her voice was stilted and uncomfortable, yet it had a polite sound that Rachel couldn't enjoy. "And you will join me for dinner…that isn't a request!"

With that, she slammed the door and left Rachel alone with her thoughts of never being able to see her father again. On the other side of the door, the beast threw a glare at the candelabra, grandfather clock, and feather duster that stood there. Only Kurt and Jesse seemed phased, and the duster swept forward, "She's really pretty…"

"Hush, Brittany," the beast grumbled.

Kurt cleared his throat, "I'm glad you took my advice, your majesty. I must say, giving her the room was a nice touch. You must really want her to feel comfortable."

"I really don't," her voice was low in warning.

Jesse scoffed, "Then why give her the room in the first place?"

"Because…Because I broke the cell in the dungeon!" she yelled and stormed off.

"We have more than one cell," Brittany offered to the retreating figure.


	4. Chapter 3

In the town's tavern, Finn hunched over the bar and nursed a pint of the strongest ale in the house. Every once in a while he absentmindedly rubbed at the large bruise that developed on his face, wincing in pain at the reminder of his failed wedding. He grumbled as one of the townspeople sympathetically slapped him on the back in passing.

He just didn't get it. He got dressed up, he hired a band, he even _combed his hair_. What else did Rachel want from him? Maybe the rest of the town was right, and Rachel was just an odd, high-maintenance nuisance. How else could he prove to her that he could be a great husband? He'd willingly put up with all of her annoying quirks, and he wouldn't mind if their children ended up having her nose. He would be great for her!

As Finn took another sip of his ale, Blaine briskly jogged through the tavern's entrance. He spotted Finn by the bar and moved towards him, squeezing his shoulder as he looked at him in concern. "How are you, Finn? Have people been bothering you about the wedding? I think we should put some ice on that bruise," he reached out to prod at the injury, but Finn smacked his hand away.

"Sit down, Blaine, you're making me uncomfortable," he mumbled into his glass.

They sat at the bar, Finn ignoring the world around him while Blaine happily observed the antics of the tavern's customers. The town had quite a lot or merry people – once they were filled with spirits. He tried to join in on the many drunken sing-alongs, but Finn always wrangled him back. So, he just patiently waited until Finn had a couple more drinks in him and felt comfortable enough to actually _talk_ to Blaine.

"I just, I don't understand," Finn grumbled into his just-emptied glass, before angrily slamming it down and turning towards Blaine. "She wants the best there is. And I might not be the best guy there is, but I'm the best for her. So, why doesn't she just get married to me, already?"

Blaine side-eyed him for a moment before he shrugged and said, "Maybe you're not the best for Rachel."

Finn's eyebrows shifted together in confused anger before he slowly started to stand, "What do you mean I'm not the best? Pick any guy in this town that's better than me for Rachel!"

Beginning to fear for his life, Blaine jumped off of his seat and stretched up to put placating hands on Finn's shoulders, "What I mean is, maybe _she_ doesn't think you're the best! Obviously you're the best, but you know Rachel."

Finn blew out a breath as he sunk back onto his stool, soothed by his friend's words. He _did_ know Rachel, probably more than Rachel herself. She needed somebody in her life to ground her, to keep her from floating off into the clouds in another one of her wild fantasies of fame or grand adventure. Finn just wanted to protect her from the villagers who constantly ridiculed her, and the only way he could see that happening was if he could draw Rachel back a little bit – wrangle her like he so easily did to Blaine. Rachel just needed to be controlled a little, and nobody else in her life would be able to do it, especially not her loony fruit of a father.

Just as that fleeting thought passed through Finn's head, the door to the tavern slammed open, and Hiram ran in, frantically searching for something. "Somebody help me, please! It's Rachel, she-she's been kidnapped!"

Finn sat and watched as Hiram raved on to the drunken masses. The gears in his head started to turn, years of rust slowly giving in, as he started to form a plan. If Rachel didn't want Finn, now, maybe she'd want him after he'd gotten into her father's good graces _and_ rescued her from the clutches of her ruthless kidnapper. She'd be willing to do anything for her knight in shining armor!

Finn lumbered over to the frantic man and clapped a hard hand on the back of his neck. Hiram jumped and rapidly spun around on the defensive, fear in his eyes, until he realized it was Finn who had surprised him. "Finn, my boy! I need your help, Rachel–"

"I know, I heard. Of course I'd be willing to help you," he put on his most charming smile.

Hiram practically beamed at the man as he gripped Finn's shirt tightly in his hands, "Thank you, Finn! Oh, I could just kiss you," and at Finn's hardly hidden grimace, he sheepishly pulled away. "Of course, I won't, but that should tell you how thankful I am."

Finn gave a curt nod and waved Blaine over to the two, "We'll just run over to my cabin and I'll fetch my musket so I can deal with the bastard that took Rachel. Don't worry, Hiram, we'll get your daughter back." He put a strong arm around Hiram as he guided them both out of the tavern, Blaine following closely behind. "Tell me more about this guy. What does he look like?"

Hiram's eyes grew wide and he dramatically clutched at his chest, "I'm not sure how to describe it. There was fur everywhere, a-and fangs! Razor sharp claws attached to paws the size of my head! Like a ferocious lion, or a bear," Hiram ranted, not noticing that Finn had come to a halt. "And I think it was a woman," he muttered as an afterthought.

When he realized there was no longer an arm across his back, he turned around to find two men staring at him, completely dumbfounded. As the three stared at each other, Hiram thought that perhaps he should have waited to explain until they got to the castle.

Finn brought his lips together in an attempt to refrain from laughing, while Blaine completely turned around to hide the smile on his face.

"So, you're trying to tell me that some giant monster took Rachel?" Finn asked, a few giggles breaking out.

Hiram swallowed, "It's true! She lives in the castle in the forest, and there are other creatures, too! Furniture with minds of their own…this probably isn't helping my case."

This time, Finn and Blaine really did laugh. Hiram just stood there, watching as the two men ridiculed him. Silently, he cursed himself for not having enough tact to handle this conversation. Now how was he going to save Rachel?

When their giggles died down, Finn lightly pushed Hiram closer to the door. "Why don't you get some rest, old man? You've been working too hard. Rachel's probably just out talking to the farm animals, again. Maybe she's singing to them," he laughed again.

Hiram sighed and left the tavern, resigned to the fact that perhaps Rachel was destined to stay at the castle forever. He coughed and shivered as the wind hit his skin, not dealing well with the sudden change in temperature. It was getting colder out, and he hoped that wherever the beast was keeping his daughter was at least warm.

* * *

It took a while, but after being left alone in her new room, the realization of her situation finally hit Rachel. She was never going to see her father again. She would probably never be able to venture outside again. And if this…_monster_ was particularly cruel, Rachel would never be able to sing again. Her hopes and dreams of an exciting future were strewn about the jagged rocks that lay underneath the bridge leading to the castle.

She curled up into a ball on her new bed and started to cry. Her body wracked with sobs as she mourned the loss of all that she once knew. But before she could truly appreciate the drama of the situation, someone started to quietly shush her.

"Hey, don't cry. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be okay."

Rachel looked up and rubbed at her eyes, trying to see where the soft, consoling voice came from. When she found not a soul, Rachel slowly sat up and started to cautiously search the bedroom.

"Hello? Who's there? You may as well show yourself now, because I…I have a ferocious beast outside just waiting to attack," she threatened, doing her best to sound far more assertive than she felt in that moment.

The mysterious voice gave a small, friendly laugh as it replied, "Do you mean Miss? I wouldn't be afraid of her, if I were you. She's like a puppy, only bigger. A lot bigger. And angrier," they trailed off. "Okay, I can see where you're coming from, but her bark is far worse than her bite."

As they talked, Rachel tried to gauge where the voice was coming from. She spun around and followed the voice until she spotted a tall wardrobe. She snuck upon it and quickly threw open the doors with a triumphant, "_Aha!_"

But all she found inside were a few neatly pressed dresses.

"Oh, you don't need to see in there," the voice said and the wardrobe started to move on its own, closing its doors and stepping forward. "That's just where I keep some of my old clothes."

By this time, Rachel was already on the other side of the room, staring in horror as the wardrobe shuffled closer. When she found her ability to use her voice, Rachel let out a bloodcurdling shriek. The door to the bedroom was burst open, and Rachel thought she would be saved from this disturbing experiment gone wrong – how else could a wardrobe walk, and talk, and _own clothes_, unless they were once some poor human that was captured and tested upon – only to realize that she was surrounded by more sentient creations.

"What is going on in here?" Kurt yelled into the commotion of the room. Only then did the wardrobe notice Rachel's panicked, fear-stricken expression, and she quickly hopped back to her place, stammering her apologies.

As everybody gave Rachel some room, she started to calm down little by little. Her frenzied breathing slowed and she looked at all the furniture that was staring back at her.

"What's happening?" Rachel questioned, or rather hysterically demanded an explanation.

"It's…well, it's a little complicated," Kurt started and Jesse nodded his head.

"We were cursed because Miss was mean to a witch," Brittany said from behind the two men, and they paused.

"Maybe not so complicated," Kurt amended.

"And who's Miss?" Rachel tentatively asked.

"That would be the glorified furball that humbly invited you into her home," Jesse interjected.

Kurt stepped forward and gave Rachel a falsely earnest smile. "But really, she is harmless – and quite charming – once you get to know her," he said, despite not entirely believing it, himself.

Rachel took a settling breath and walked to the bed on shaky legs. She collapsed atop of it and took a minute to gather her thoughts.

"I suppose I got more than expected, when I promised to stay here," she said absently while glancing over to the wardrobe. "Sorry I…screamed in your face."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," the wardrobe nodded.

And they all sat and stood around in a slightly uncomfortable silence, until Rachel couldn't handle it anymore, "My name's Rachel. And you all would be…"

"Of course, how rude of us!" Kurt exclaimed, and one by one, the candelabra, grandfather clock, and feather duster all made introductions.

"And I'm Tina," the wardrobe greeted, and Rachel gave her a small smile.

Jesse walked towards a small closet and opened the door with a flourish, revealing multiple gowns in a perfectly organized rainbow of colors, "Now that we've covered pleasantries, we need to get you ready for dinner."

"I'm not going," Rachel argued, refraining from stomping her foot, since it would be a little awkward to maneuver while sitting on her bed.

The clock froze before quickly turning back towards the woman, "No, you're going."

Kurt could see this quickly devolving into an argument between stubborn children, so he interrupted before things got carried away, "And, _why_, exactly, aren't you going? Her majesty will be rather… dismayed if you don't show."

"I'm sure you understand why I wouldn't want to dine with the woman who took my father away from me, and is currently holding me captive."

Trying to think fast, Jesse moved toward the bed, "It _is _understandable. But, I'm sure, like the rest of us, she's just eager to spend time with a new face, and such a beautiful one, at that," he smiled, turning up his charm.

It didn't work much in his favor. "Well, if she's as wonderful as you all say, then she'll understand that I don't wish to be near her, right now," Rachel bit out, crossing her arms and lifting up her chin.

The servants worriedly looked around at one another, trying to figure out their next move. Kurt just hoped that Ms. Jones had a hold of everything in the dining room.

* * *

In the dining room, the beast impatiently sat at one end of the table, waiting for her prisoner. The large fire place next to the table quietly popped and crackled, interrupting the silence of the room. Ms. Jones sat on the table next to the beast, constantly refilling her empty teacup.

"I'm tired of waiting!" the beast yelled as she sent the teacup crashing against the wall with a simple swipe of her paw. "Where is she?"

"I'm sure she'll be down any second, your majesty. Please try to calm down before she does, or you'll end up scaring her. Or, scaring her more than you already have…"

The creature glared down at Ms. Jones, "Why should I care if she's afraid of me?"

"Because Rachel could be the one," Brittany happily supplied from the room's entrance.

The beast left Ms. Jones behind as she went to tower over the feather duster, "What do you mean, Brittany?"

Unfazed by the monster's daunting presence, Brittany did what she thought was a suitable shrug for her body, "Well, I figure time is running out on the spell, and Rachel's more your age than that old guy was…plus, she's really pretty."

From the other end of the room, Ms. Jones intently watched the beast, paying careful attention to her reaction to Brittany's explanation.

"That is _ridiculous_," she hissed. "There is no way someone of my stature would fall for some peasant girl prisoner! No matter how pretty she might be," she broke off into a mildly embarrassed mumble, and Ms. Jones mentally cheered. Her nightly discussions with Kurt were sure to become a lot more interesting with the arrival of their newest house guest.

Brittany seemed to think for a moment, before saying, "But I thought you didn't think of yourself as a princess, anymore."

The beast startled, then let out a quiet growl of annoyance. "Why are you here, Brittany?"

"Right! I have news about Rachel."

It was decided, after Rachel's reluctance to go to dinner was discovered, that Brittany would tell the beast. Tina couldn't fit through the door, and out of the other three, Brittany was the least likely to be thrown into the fireplace in a blind rage.

"News? Will she be down soon?" the creature questioned, confused as to why Rachel wouldn't just come down and tell her this so-called news, herself.

"Uhm…no," Brittany replied, only then starting to worry about her task. "She actually won't be coming to dinner."

The beast reached for the feather duster, but in a split second thought better, and grabbed the nearest chair and threw that into the fireplace instead. There was a vehemence bubbling up inside her that she had never felt before. Never in her life had she been as angry as she was the day she met Rachel.

"What do you mean she isn't coming!?"

Brittany didn't really know what else to say, so she just gave another of her shrugs, which sent the beast bounding out of the room, both teapot and feather duster quickly tailing her.

The beast ran up the grand staircase, through the hallways, past the ballroom and West Wing, until she skidded to a stop in front of the door to Rachel's bedroom. She was about to enter until she heard the muffled voices on the other side. She leaned in closer and placed one of her ears to the door, hoping to better hear the conversation.

Jesse and Kurt seemed to have gotten into another one of their arguments, and Tina, rather poorly, attempted to mediate. What finally got the two to stop, though, was laughter. It was like nothing the beast had heard before, and it almost beckoned her with its sound. She couldn't decide if that was a bad thing or not.

"I'm sure you both are very talented," Rachel smiled sadly at the two men, "but for the first time, I'm not really in the mood to judge any type of performance, tonight. Perhaps I'll listen tomorrow; that is, if extracurricular activities are allowed on the prison schedule."

On the other side of the door, the beast sagged at the hardness that seeped into Rachel's voice. From behind the beast, Ms. Jones and Brittany watched her shifts in mood. The anger draining from her at the sound of Rachel's laughter, and the newfound contentment leaving her at Rachel's mention of her prisoner status.

Ms. Jones hopped closer to the beast and gave her a small nudge at her ankle, "I can tell you already like her. I know about these kinds of things."

The beast looked down at the teapot and grunted before focusing back on the conversation in the bedroom.

"You don't have to worry about that," Tina waved her off. "Her majesty is a very avid supporter of the arts."

"Or, at least she _was_," Jesse quietly added.

The comment caught Rachel's interest, but as the past few hours finally started to hit her, she decided it was time to end the conversation. "Well, at least that's a bit of a relief," she said. "I'm just feeling a little drained, and would like to put this day behind me. Thank you for keeping me company, tonight. I hope we can all talk again, soon. And thank Brittany for me, too, please."

"Of course," Kurt said, and he and Jesse headed for the door.

The beast quickly stepped back before the door was opened. Neither man looked at all surprised by her presence, but a faint gasp was heard from inside the room before the door closed. The beast nearly winced at Rachel's reaction toward her visage, but she kept her features smooth; unwavering as she surveyed her servants.

"She doesn't want to eat? Fine," the beast grumbled, "go ahead and starve. See if I care."

Kurt looked at Ms. Jones inquisitively, and she merely smiled, letting him know that he'd have to wait.

"I'll be turning in for the night. Keep watch here, in case she decides to leave her room," the beast ordered no one in particular before leaving her servants out in the hallway.

When she knew the beast was out of earshot, Ms. Jones turned to the rest of the group, "I have some _very_ interesting news."

* * *

In the West Wing, the beast threw open the doors to her chamber. On all fours, she slowly wandered through the wreckage of broken tables and chairs. She passed a large portrait of herself ripped to shreds. At the beginning, she couldn't help but stare at it whenever she passed, but now it just bled into the wall.

Her mind was being plagued by Brittany's words in the dining room and Ms. Jones' words in the hallway. She couldn't possibly have feelings for some peasant girl! Why, if her parents were still around…

That thought almost made her shudder.

But still, the possibility of being cured, to finally be _free_…that was something far too good to pass up. Yet, even if she did find that she could love this woman, how could someone like Rachel ever love her? She was selfless enough to sacrifice herself for her father, but could she be selfless enough to throw away any ill will she felt for the creature that put her in that position?

With a heaved sigh, the beast made her way to the last standing table in the room. On it stood the enchanted mirror and gardenia. The flower was carefully encased in a glass dome, with a few of its petals resting atop the table. She picked up the mirror and succeeded in not looking at her reflection.

"Show me Rachel," she softly whispered to the mirror, and in a swirl of color she appeared. Sitting at the bay windows in her room and looking at the bright moon, she quietly hummed a tune the beast had never heard before.

The beast looked on at the woman until it felt too much like she was intruding. She gently put the mirror down and retired to her remnants of a bed for the night, but her mind wouldn't let her go, yet. It was true that she had never been so angry before she met Rachel. In fact, she had never felt much of anything before she met her.

She watched the moon for a short while, before eventually drifting off into a light sleep. As her breathing evened out, another petal from the gardenia danced to the table's surface.


	5. Chapter 4

Jesse paced from one side of the hallway to the other. Ms. Jones was glaring at him while Kurt rolled his eyes and Brittany seemed to be off in her own world. He was trying to calm himself before talking, in fear of waking Rachel, but the teapot was _really_ starting to test him.

"The gardenia started wilting _months ago_, petals have already fallen off. We can't just sit around and wait for love to blossom and birds to sing, or whatever the hell kind of cliché thing you think is supposed to happen," Jesse's voice was clipped and strained as he tried to go no louder than a whisper.

When the beast had left them, the others gathered around Ms. Jones as she revealed her findings from earlier in the night. The possible feelings the beast already had for their new prisoner. While they watched Rachel's door, under the beast's orders, they tried to figure out the best course of action for this potential love story.

"Love isn't just grand gestures, Jesse," Ms. Jones bit back. "It's about connection and other things that you can't plan. The most we can do is give them some alone time, and try our best to make Rachel comfortable. Wait for the romance to happen."

Kurt turned away from Rachel's door and jumped into the fray, "I hate to say it, but Jesse's right. We just don't have _time_ for romance. This isn't going to be simple. We need to find some way for them to connect, to open up with each other."

"Maybe they could sing a duet," Jesse commented off-handedly as he began to pace again.

"Ooh," Brittany jumped up and down, "maybe they can dance together! It can really loosen people up." But nobody paid her much attention.

On the other side of the door, in the darkened, quiet bedroom, Rachel lay slumped against the side of the bay window. When the servants had left her for the night, and Tina had fallen asleep, Rachel sat at the window and stared at the moon. She was too tired to think about her situation anymore, and far too frazzled (and hungry) to lie in a strange bed and will herself to sleep.

She looked up at the moon, shining clear and high above the castle, and wondered what her father was up to. When she spied what she thought was a snowflake, she hoped that whatever he was doing, he was keeping warm and checking up on his cough. She was also thankful that at least her captor had put her in a place far more comfortable and warm than the dungeon. She wondered about the mysteries of the castle, and of the servant's human selves. Part of her, a part that she didn't want to acknowledge, wondered about the beast with the brilliant hazel eyes. Softly, she started to hum a song her fathers would sing to her when she was a child. It started to calm her, soothe her troubled mind, and eventually put her to sleep.

The loud growl from her stomach eclipsed her faint snoring, and she woke up with a start. Rachel tried to work out a kink in her neck as she slowly got to her feet. With measured steps, she made her way to her bed, until another loud grumble made her decide that she should try to get some food. When she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, it was clear that she had intruded on something.

"What do you want us to do, lock them in a room and not let them out until they profess their love for each other?" Ms. Jones angrily questioned the two men.

"I don't see a problem with that," Kurt replied.

Brittany, being the only one who was still paying attention to the door, brightened when she saw the castle's newest addition. "Hi, Rachel! What are you doing up so late?"

The others stopped what they were doing and looked at Rachel expectantly. She gave them a nervous smile, "I was hoping I could get something to eat, now."

Jesse scoffed, "You should've eaten with her majesty when you had the chance."

Kurt elbowed him in his side and tried to think quickly, "What Jesse means is…it would have been easier on all of us, had you eaten with Miss."

Rachel nearly stormed back into her room, but such dramatics wouldn't help fill her stomach any faster, so she simply stomped her foot, "It wouldn't have been easier for _me._"

"Of course it wouldn't have. You should just take your time with everything that's going on," Ms. Jones told Rachel; however, Rachel saw that she was giving Jesse and Kurt her full attention, glaring at them when she said it. "We shouldn't expect you to want to spend time with Miss just yet."

Jesse looked like he wanted to respond, but instead he kept quiet and started down the hallway, "Well, what are you all waiting for? We might be able to find a crust of bread in the kitchen." Despite his difficultness, he wasn't just going to let the woman go hungry. He kind of enjoyed her company, plus they needed her to be healthy and happy enough to be willing to deal with her majesty's antics. So, Jesse didn't see the problem with playing the role of helpful servant, just this once.

They walked to the dining room in an awkward silence. As Rachel looked around her, she noticed all the servants sharing looks with each other. Even Brittany seemed to be cognizant of whatever was happening, as she looked to Kurt and then turned and gave Rachel a mysterious smile. Rachel gave her a tight-lipped one in return.

As they continued their trip, Rachel casually took in all the details of the castle. She had noticed the elegance of the castle's interior when she first entered, but now that she had time to let herself fully appreciate it, she was in awe.

The clacking of shoes and various household items against the marble floor echoed throughout whichever hallway they were in, now. The sound was rich and pleasant to her as it reverberated against the walls. Rachel was positive that the castle's acoustics were perfect for a performer such as herself, and the thought made her smile.

The paintings that hung on the walls – the ones that weren't destroyed beyond recognition – were clearly made by the finest painters of the land. The sculptures nestled away in the corners – the ones that didn't lay in pieces on the ground – were almost lifelike in their detail. She was sure that the other pieces were just as remarkable before they met their fate. As they passed more of the ruined artwork, Rachel started to feel unsettled. True, their tattered and smashed remnants added a certain character to the castle, but if it were up to Rachel, they would have all been done away with; thrown outside with the rubble of the crumbling brick.

When they passed a grandiose ballroom, Rachel realized that the castle was far larger than she had first thought. There were so many hallways and staircases that she didn't notice, before. Of course, considering how she originally went through those passageways, it was understandable. There was one staircase in particular that piqued her interest; it seemed larger than some of the others, dark and ominous and protected by gargoyles that matched the ones outside the castle. She almost turned to see where it led, but her stomach loudly protested.

After her hunger pulled her away from the mysteries of the cursed castle, Rachel noticed that silence still hung over the group. This was the first time any of them were this quiet since she'd known them. Granted, she had only known them for a few hours, but that was beside the point. Something strange was happening, and it probably had something to do with the conversation she had interrupted when she left her room. But before she could actually ask what was wrong, they had finally reached the dining room.

While the hallways were a pristine and heavenly white, the dining room was covered in deep reds and browns. The table was finished in a mahogany darker than Jesse, and it seemed to go on for miles. Sturdy matching chairs surrounded the table, save for the head of the table nearest to the room's entrance. Rachel found that odd, but she didn't comment. On the other end stood what Rachel assumed was the beast's chair; if not because of its placement, then its design. It was the only chair that was different, almost throne-like, and it was definitely large enough to hold the weight of the creature.

Kurt hopped over to the chair and pushed it away from the table with a great deal of effort. "Nothing less for our guest than a seat fit for royalty," he huffed.

"It's fit for royalty because it was made _only _for-"Jesse started to protest, but before anything else could be said, Brittany and Ms. Jones pushed him through the kitchen entrance.

"We agreed to keep her comfortable and content," Ms. Jones said when the door closed.

"Yes, I know," Jesse replied, "but that doesn't mean we should just throw out all the rules. Like, 'Don't sit in her majesty's chair.' This place still needs some order!" Brittany and Ms. Jones stared at him, his stance unwavering until the last second, "Also, I don't see why she gets to sit in the chair and I don't."

They rolled their eyes at him, "Go keep an eye out for Miss," Ms. Jones instructed. "We don't need her finding that we've gone against her orders."

As Jesse left the room, the other two split ways to alert the kitchen that there was going to be a dinner, after all.

* * *

Rachel sunk back into the comfortable chair as she listened to the faint clatter coming from the kitchen. From the mantel of the fireplace, Kurt watched her with a too big smile plastered on his face, which was more disconcerting than anything else. The awkward feeling of the room wouldn't leave her. It reminded her of their reaction when she first stepped out of her bedroom, and she couldn't help but ask, "What were you all talking about, earlier?"

Kurt stared at her, smile still stuck on his face, "I don't know what you mean."

"You were talking about something in the hallway. It was something about…locking people in rooms, which I find entirely unethical."

"Oh that," Kurt laughed as he waved around one of his hands. "We were just…talking about two of the servants in the castle! A broom and mop, actually. They don't think there's anything worth note between them, but we think there's something there. At least, there could be."

"Oh! Well, I do love a good love story," Rachel gushed.

Kurt smiled at her, this time genuinely, and replied, "Don't we all?"

Jesse swung the kitchen door open and made his way to the table, "Dinner will be ready shortly."

Rachel couldn't think of how she could possibly thank the servants enough, so she gave him a blinding smile instead. She had no idea why she, as a prisoner of the castle, was being treated like…well, like royalty. But she was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (at least when it came to potentially torturous, or life-or-death situations), so she didn't dare ask questions.

For a while, they made with light, pleasant conversation – or, as pleasant as Kurt and Jesse could be while in the same room, together. They told her stories of how things were before the curse, how the castle had been pristine, sparkling in the shining sun. They told her about their lives as humans, and how they coped with their transformation. Rachel sat quietly and drank in every word.

But as they talked, they constantly skipped over the one topic that had Rachel the most curious. And eventually, Rachel couldn't help but ask, "And the beast? What was she like?"

The two men grew quiet as they exchanged looks, wondering what, exactly, they should say. Or even if they _should_ say anything. When Rachel noticed their hesitance, she thought that maybe she didn't want to know.

Before either of them could think of an answer, rolling carts filled with food busted through the kitchen's door and squeaked over to Rachel. On one of the carts, Brittany and Ms. Jones stood proud. Rachel wondered if the servants had stomachs anymore, because there was no way she'd be able to eat everything they had made for her.

"Rachel, your dinner is served," Ms. Jones proclaimed as Brittany clumsily knocked off the lid to the first of the appetizers with her handle.

"Thank you, very much, but…I'm not sure I can eat all of this."

"Oh, right," Brittany casually surveyed the rows of trays on top of carts. "The chefs are used to cooking for somebody with her highness' appetite. I think her stomach grew with the rest of her."

When her own stomach made another loud grumble, Rachel looked at the food with brand new appreciation. Maybe she was hungry enough to at least make a sizeable dent in the meal.

As she ate, the four servants kept her company. Jesse and Kurt finally, and rather enthusiastically, got to show off their vocal talent. Jovial laughter filled the room as the late hours of night brought everyone's guard down. None of them noticed the creature lurking just outside the room, watching them.

The beast had awoken hours earlier. She would rarely experience a fretful enough sleep that she would wake up in the middle of the night. It was normally caused by dreams that had unsettled her, and that night was no different. That night came dreams of darkness and the crows that surrounded the castle, of petals falling away to nothing. Dreams of captivating laughter.

As always, she woke with a jolt, and when she couldn't lull herself back to sleep, she sought the comfort her home brought to her. She wandered the halls, recollecting the fond moments of her childhood. Honestly, there weren't very many, but the ones she had helped soothe her heart. She thought of the few times she was allowed to run through the castle, laughing and singing. Those few times when her parents were around, and they would treat her like she was their daughter, rather than their apprentice.

She was quite a ways away from the dining room when her ears picked up the noises coming from it. Hearing the obvious voices of her four main servants, the beast sighed, her breath rumbling in her throat. In normal situations, she would leave her servants be during the night hours, but with their latest addition to the castle, this was not a normal situation. She loped over to the room, all the while thinking of the ways to punish her workers for not keeping watch at Rachel's door like she asked, and froze just before the entranceway.

There her servants were, surrounded by various foods, laughing and talking and singing to…her eyes cut to the figure in her chair. _Rachel._ That woman had the audacity to sit in _her_ chair after the way she acted, that night. Her tail thrashed in her fury and she nearly charged into the room to – well, she wasn't exactly sure, but before she had the chance, she saw it. The smile on Rachel's face shone brighter than any the beast had ever seen. For the first time since she'd been here, Rachel looked genuinely _happy_.

With a pained sigh, she decided that, just this once, it would be okay to let her servants disobey her.


	6. Chapter 5

After the meal, or what Rachel could eat of it, the servants offered to take her back to her room. She thankfully accepted, otherwise she would've probably lost her way, never to be seen again. But when they passed that mysterious staircase, Rachel thought that getting lost wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

When they got to her room, the servants all wished her a goodnight and left as she quietly closed the door behind her. In an attempt to not wake whatever was or wasn't living in her bedroom, Rachel tiptoed over to her bed. It was a move that proved to be futile when she looked up and noticed Tina sending a sleepy smile in her direction.

"Oh, I didn't notice you were gone," the wardrobe commented with a yawn.

Rachel smiled at her as she readied herself for bed, "It turns out I ended up having dinner, after all. I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's alright, I'm just happy I've got somebody to talk to."

She frowned a bit, giving Tina a sympathetic look. "It gets kind of lonely up here, huh?"

Tina nodded as Rachel slipped under the covers, "I've never really been a social person. It used to be hard to pick me out of a room full of people," she smiled before adding, "but if I could leave this room and be with the others, nobody could keep me quiet."

"How did you even end up in here?" Rachel asked, propping her head up in her hand.

"This was my room," Tina replied, and Rachel felt a little more uncomfortable with sleeping in a strange bed. "I was in here when the curse happened. It actually took a while for people to find me up here. When they did, they all tried to get me out. I couldn't fit through the door, and the only other way out would be to jump out the window…I decided it was best to just stay here."

"That's awful." Rachel stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what she would do with herself if she were ever locked away in a room for the rest of her life. At least in her current situation, she was under the impression that she was given freedom to roam the castle.

"They did their best," Tina sighed. "And they promised to visit with me at least once a day, which they did. Well, they did for a while. People just…tend to forget that I'm still around. But Brittany comes to clean about once a week, and sometimes even her majesty stops by."

Rachel sat up slightly at the mention of the creature, "She comes up here?" The question came out more timid than the woman would have liked, but either Tina didn't notice or she decided not to mention it.

"Every once in a while. I mean, it's not like she has anything better to do. I've heard she mostly spends her time sulking in the West Wing."

All thoughts of having to deal with the beast more than necessary were quickly forgotten at that answer, "But she has this entire castle. Why would she cage herself up like a- well…"

"Like a beast?" Tina offered. She barely made out Rachel's chastised look in the cover of darkness. "That's just how she is, I guess," she continued. "She's never really liked people to begin with, and then when everything happened, she decided to close herself off completely."

"Okay…but why the West Wing? What's so special about it?"

"If I could hazard a guess, I'd say it's because it's where she spent most of her time when she was human," Tina replied. "Not to mention it's where her bedroom is."

"But why? I mean, there has to be more to it than that." By now, Rachel had fully sat up, the blankets fallen and left bunched at her waist. All night, she'd been wondering about the creature that ruled over the castle, and she was finally starting to get some answers.

"There probably is, but none of us are really sure what." Tina decided not to mention that none of them really cared. As long as the beast seemed as happy as she usually was, they didn't care where she spent her time. This way, it was easier for them to stay out of her hair during her angrier moods.

That wasn't good enough for Rachel. "Is there any way you could find out why, if you ever wanted to? Possibly by going to the West Wing?"

"Me, personally? I don't think so, considering my situation. And I don't think anybody else could, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody but her majesty is allowed in the West Wing, anymore." Thinking that was the end to the conversation, the wardrobe shut her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. She'd forgotten how tiring social interactions were for her, and that feeling only increased with Rachel. The tiny girl could be a ball of energy if she got excited enough, even in the late hours of the night.

"Oh, I see." Rachel paused to watch Tina squeeze her eyes shut in annoyance before slowly opening them again, "Well, I'm getting tired, so I'm just going to try to get some sleep. Thank you for talking with me." She gave her a too-cheery smile, and Tina smiled back – though definitely not as bright. She snuggled up under the covers, and impatiently waited until the wardrobe fell back into a slumber.

There's one rule Rachel's father learned very early in her childhood: Never tell Rachel no. As soon as she was told she wasn't allowed to do something, some random rebellious being awoke inside her and wouldn't let her rest until her id was fully satisfied. From something as important as staying up all night to practice her singing, to things slightly less important, such as riding one of the family's goats. It was always in her blood to defy those that told her no.

So, Rachel waited until she was certain that everything in her room was sound asleep. She quickly and carefully snuck out of her room, thankful to find the hallway empty. She slowly retraced her steps, making sure she didn't end up losing her way. When she got to that gargoyle guarded staircase, her foot briefly hovered over the first step before lightly making contact.

With every step higher, Rachel tried to swallow down any feeling of apprehension that tried to claw its way up her throat. Something inside her told her to turn back and go to the safety of her room, and she always prided herself on having a sixth sense of sorts. But as her feet touched the landing, she decided it was too late for second guessing.

The hallway of the West Wing was unlike the others she had seen in the castle. They were dark and completely bare, devoid of any proof that anyone had been in this part of the castle. The doors to nearly every room were thrown open, and it looked as if a small tornado had gone inside and torn everything to pieces. However, she noted a set of double doors further down the hall that was shut tight. Intricate carvings marked the doors in a way that proclaimed the room's importance. Rachel went to open the doors, but found a large padlock attached to chains wrapped around the handles. What was so important in there that the beast would have to lock away? What could she possibly be hiding in that room? Her lips formed a thin line as she moved on, keeping the room in the back of her mind.

When she made it to the end of the hallway, she found another set of closed double doors. They were the same size as those of the chained doors, perhaps even larger, but they were dull in their simplicity. They also appeared to be unlocked. Rachel took the handles in a steady grip and pushed the doors open carefully, so as not to disturb anything that may be lurking on the other side.

She found much of the same as she did in all the other rooms of the West Wing. Almost nothing in the room was intact, and it was hard to tell what the purpose of the room was, or if it had a purpose at all. Rachel squinted in the darkness, venturing further into the room as she tried not to trip over anything. Claw marks marred the walls and the floor. Her eyes hovered over a particularly deep set of marks on the nearest wall, and as she walked closer she noticed something half hidden behind a curtain and shadows. She brushed the curtain away to find a tarnished picture frame holding yet another shredded painting.

It was larger than the others she had seen, almost taking half the height of the wall. From what scraps that still hung from the top of the frame, Rachel could see the worn paint fading away. With nimble fingers, Rachel picked up a large piece of linen that hung from the side and stretched it across the frame. There were more tears there, but she could make out that the painting was a portrait, but of whom she couldn't tell. What she had before her was a giant puzzle, and ever so carefully she tried to put the pieces together. She couldn't do much with just her two hands, but eventually she pieced together the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. When she looked closer at the pair of hazel, a small breath escaped from her throat in an almost muted gasp. They held a familiarity with the eyes of the beast, but the ones in the painting, with the fading color and torn canvas, lacked a certain something that she noticed the creature kept just below the surface. Something that made her – almost – have sympathy for the beast.

Rachel quickly turned away from the painting, leaving it to fall away back into the darkness.

She noticed a bed, or what was once a bed, after walking further into the room. She froze and her heart leapt up into her throat, but calmed herself after she realized that no one was resting there. Deciding that this was the bedroom that Tina spoke of, Rachel briefly wondered where the beast had gone off to, if she wasn't in her room.

There were windows that almost went from ceiling to floor, and stood four in a row. Near the windows was a small stand, hidden away in the corner. On it stood a flower, pure white and glowing. Its shine drew Rachel closer, and she moved to it blindly. She'd never seen such a thing as a glowing flower before, but it was certainly an enchanting sight. Her hands grasped the glass that encased the gardenia, and she nearly sent it careening to the floor at the sound of the beast's roar.

Rachel dropped the glass back to the table and spun around to find the beast in the doorway. She snarled, her tail flicking uncontrollably as she strode across the room on all fours. Rachel had little time to react, just barely backing away from the table as the beast closed in on her.

"Who said you could come in here!?" The walls nearly shook with the beast's volume.

"N-nobody! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here. I just-"

"Get out." It was a simple enough request, but Rachel seemed glued to the spot. "_Get out!_" The beast roared again, picking up a busted chair and throwing it across the room.

In a flash, Rachel was out the door. Her heart pounded with every step as she heard faint echoes of paws hitting the marble floor. She never looked back as she ran through the halls, past the ballroom, and past her bedroom. Rachel wasn't sure where she was going, but there was something inside of her telling her to keep running.

* * *

Her claws grazed against the hard floor as she ran, huffing with the exertion. Years of locking herself inside her castle had poorly affected her physique. She didn't know why she continued to run after Rachel. The woman had left her room like she asked…or demanded. But, nevertheless, the urge to chase her stayed with the beast.

Near the castle's main entranceway, the beast's four main servants were shocked as they watched Rachel run out through the door, the beast following her on all fours until she stopped in front of her servants, bearing down on all of them.

"Who allowed her entrance to the West Wing?" the beast asked, and they all looked at each other.

"Nobody, your majesty, I swear," Jesse assured. "She must have snuck out of her room and-"

"And none of you were watching her door?" All four of them shook at the tone in the beast's voice.

"We must have forgotten after we brought her back from dinner," Kurt explained and realized the problem immediately after.

"Right," the beast barked, baring her fangs.

"Look, obviously we made a mistake," Ms. Jones stepped forward as she tried to hide that slight quiver in her voice. "But right now, your prisoner, _and_ the closest person we have to breaking this curse, is running away. Now, are you going to stand here and holler until the walls shake, or are you going to go after her?"

The creature visibly softened, but she merely stood and stared down at the teapot.

"What are you waiting for!?" Jesse shouted, finding himself charged from Ms. Jones' little speech, and the beast nodded and hurried out of the castle to find Rachel.

* * *

Rachel had very quickly lost her way in the darkness of the woods. With arms out, she stumbled through the forest, trying her hardest not to run into any trees – or anything else – as she tried to find her way home. If she had thought ahead, she would have stopped to find a torch or lantern. If she had thought at all, she might still be in the castle. At that moment, stuck in the thick of the forest, she couldn't tell which option was safer.

When she heard the familiar sound of paws smacking against the ground, Rachel abandoned any hope of safety and ran as fast as she could. She was too close to home, to her father, to let the beast capture her now. Her legs worked frantically as the sound got closer. When she heard a set of matching paws, followed by another, and another, she soon discovered that the beast was the least of her problems.

Panic filled her as she tried to run faster. Her foot caught on a gnarled tree root, and she fell to the ground as the wolves closed in on her. She did her best to crawl away from the pack, but only managed to roll onto her back before she was pinned. Dull claws uncomfortably dug into Rachel's skin, and the most she could do was shut her eyes tight when the wolf lunged at her throat.

Rachel was frozen in shock as the wolf tried again and again to bite at her flesh, never quite reaching its mark before being propelled off to the side. Strong arms lifted her up, and then clumsily slipped and dropped her back down. On the ground, Rachel blinked her eyes open, and saw a pair of long legs clad in dark trousers that stopped a little too short for the legs they covered. Her eyes traveled upward and found Finn standing before her, grabbing for the musket that was strapped to his back.

Shots rang out as Rachel got to her feet. When she looked up again, all the wolves had either disappeared into the trees or been laid out on the ground by the hunter's aim. Rachel ran up to Finn and hugged him in a wave of emotion. He stood still for a moment, confused, before wrapping his arms around her in return. She could feel his gun awkwardly push into her back. When she realized what she was doing, Rachel pulled away from the hug and gave Finn an wobbly smile, clearly still shaken from the attack.

"Finn, how did you know I was here?"

Finn shifted a bit, putting his musket back before rubbing at the back of his neck. "Um, I didn't. I just couldn't sleep, so I came out for a little night hunting. I guess it's a good thing I did." He smiled.

"Well, thank you. I don't think I'd be alive right now, without you." Finn didn't seem to be listening, as he bent down and picked up one of the wolf carcasses.

"And to think your father was going on about some monster kidnapping you," he laughed, and Rachel startled before nearly jumping at Finn.

"My father? You've heard from him, is he all right?"

"As all right as he usually is. He was at the tavern earlier, talking about how a giant beast kidnapped you."

Feeling caught, Rachel got ready to try and explain, before Finn interrupted, "Wait until the village hears that you just got lost in the woods all day!"

He jovially swung the wolf over his shoulder, and wrapped his free arm around Rachel's shoulders, leading her out of the woods. From the depths of the forest, Rachel heard a singular mournful howl. She would have easily mistaken it for a wolf from the pack, lamenting the loss of a friend, if that familiar voice hadn't already ingrained itself in her mind.


	7. Chapter 6

Just a tiny chapter, this time. Hope you all don't mind. I'd also like to take this time to say how thankful I am to everyone reading, favoriting and reviewing.

* * *

She had gotten there in time to see the hunter, whoever he was, toss aside the wolf that had jumped on Rachel. She watched as he withdrew his musket and fired at the hungry pack. There was an urge, a brief flash within the beast, to run over and maul him. Hide his body and take credit for being Rachel's savior. But she stood still, and she watched. And when she saw Rachel hug the man, something gurgled deep inside of her, and she let it out the best way she knew how. She only hoped the two were too far away to hear her howl.

The trek back to the castle was slow, cold, and if she were being honest, lonely. At her arrival, Kurt, Ms. Jones, Jesse, and Brittany all stared up at her, and then at the castle's entrance, all with the same hopeful and expectant look. When they saw no sign of Rachel, their faces morphed and mirrored the look of guarded defeat on the beast's countenance.

"She walked off with some hunter," was all she would offer as explanation before stalking off to the comfort of her parlor.

Her servants, of course, followed after her. They asked a myriad of questions that jumbled together into a singular annoying buzz. She ignored them all, slumping into her chair and rolling her eyes as they surrounded her.

"You could always go to the village and bring her back," Kurt's voice broke out from the crowd, the sound of defeat only barely hidden by the reassurance in his voice.

Quinn's response was a dry laugh and a cold glare, marked with the slap of reality across her servant's face, "What, and have the townspeople see me and form an angry mob? I'm a monster; people don't tend to look upon me with kindness."

They were all quiet for a moment as realization set in. They had lost. It had taken years for anyone to wander into the castle, and it was mere chance that brought Rachel there. The gardenia's magic was fading fast and the petals were already falling. It was only a few months until the beast's 21st birthday, and after that they'd be stuck like this forever. Any hope that the beauty had brought with her had dwindled away to nothing as the five of them sat in the darkness of the seHer

The beast slowly turned her head away from her workers, hiding her face. While most of them took that as a sign to leave, one decided to stay behind.

As the others left, Brittany swished closer to the beast and gave her a sad smile. "It's okay if you miss her," she said before turning around and following the others.

All the beast could say was, "I don't." And she didn't. It was impossible to miss someone you never got to know.

She was just so tired. Any optimism she had left was stolen by a gangly man in too short pants and a beaten up musket.

She used to believe that it would be easy to lift the curse. In the beginning, she thought that all she had to do was sit in the castle and wait for someone to come. Surely, the village past the forest would realize that the princess was missing. One day, her hero would come, they'd fall in love, and everything would be happily ever after. Eventually, after months when no one came, the beast realized that she, along with the castle, had been easily forgotten.

When that plan had failed, the beast and her servants tried to think of something new. The thought had come to Kurt, as he recalled the night they met the enchantress, that it was never said that she couldn't fall in love with one of the workers. So, one by one, she shared in the company of her servants, hoping that one of them would secretly be the key to their freedom. And every time she was left both disappointed and annoyed. The only time she had felt anything beside boredom and contempt was when she was with Tina, but it was merely from not seeing her as often as the others. While it had helped the beast discover that she preferred the company of women, this plan also proved fruitless.

Soon, all the servants had given up hope, and the beast closely followed suit. But in the darkness of her chamber, she'd spy on the village through her magic mirror, still silently entertaining the idea that luck would one day be on their side. She never mentioned it to them for fear of having her only company grow to resent her – more than she thought they already did.

It got to a point where the beast wasn't sure if she'd even know how to act around a human if the opportunity struck. She'd had years of training, etiquette lessons, back when she was still human, but that meant nothing after years of isolation. When Hiram had come to the castle, it was quickly understood that any of her learned politeness had left her. She had calmed herself and at least tried with Rachel, but apparently that still wasn't good enough.

Rachel's presence had charged everyone's spirits, but none more than the head of the castle. To see a human again, and one that the beast thought rivaled her own beauty. It did more to her than she'd like to admit. And her laugh was…slightly unconventional, but it was the most joyous sound the beast had ever heard.

She yawned and stretched out her arms far past the chair. She went to her chamber, and only briefly paused when she glanced at the mirror that rested on the table, wondering briefly if Rachel had made it out of the forest, before shaking herself and moving to her bed, slumping in the comfortable wreckage. Perhaps she missed Rachel after all.


	8. Chapter 7

The early morning sun had started to shine as Rachel and Finn came into town. After finding out that Finn didn't have as strong of a sense of direction as he'd thought, they had spent the last hours of the night wandering the forest. All Rachel wanted to do was go home and curl up in her father's arms, or even just the comfort of her own bed. Finn, on the other hand, had decided that his heroics needed to be celebrated immediately.

Finn wrapped one of his hands around Rachel's and led the slightly protesting woman into the town square. Once there, he let go and leapt upon the base of a towering bronze statue. It was a statue of him, his pose heroic as he placed a foot on top of the mountain lion he had slain after it had attacked the village, one day. It was made as a form of gratitude, without much thought put into it. They ended up having to get rid of the town's fountain – Rachel's favorite resting spot – to place it.

Finn's very presence demanded attention as he stood in front of the statue, and eventually he got it. Little by little, the townspeople gathered around the statue, and Rachel briefly wondered if she could slip away and run home without anyone noticing. It was too late, however, as Finn looked down on her with a proud smile while the villagers closed her in. While nobody actually cared about Rachel's wellbeing, the village would always find a reason to celebrate their small-town hero. The small crowd stared on as Finn boasted about his latest adventure: the harrowing tale of the brave hunter who rescued the damsel in distress from a pack of 30 or so wolves – an embellished number that caused Rachel to roll her eyes.

When the story ended, some of the villagers broke away from the crowd while others clustered around Finn to congratulate him. Rachel split her time between surveying the man as he took in everyone's praise, and finding a path out of there. When she found one, and was certain Finn was too busy to notice, she slipped off, finally heading home.

Her return to the family cottage was welcomed by the familiar clattering of her father working in the cellar. She treaded lightly down the steps, both in hopes to not scare him and in fear of having a chunk of shrapnel flung in her direction. She watched as Hiram hunched over his workbench, tinkering with something Rachel couldn't see, and only pausing when his coughs wracked his body.

Rachel rushed to her father's side, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, her previous caution replaced with concern for his health. Hiram jumped with a gasp, the air straining in his throat with a wheeze. He spun around and reached behind his back to grab for whatever he was working on, but when he saw his only daughter standing before him, his arm paused midair.

He was surprised at how remarkably normal she looked. She had only been gone for a day, but it felt far longer. It might not have been long enough time for somebody to change, Hiram thought, but _he_ certainly felt different. He stared right back at her as Rachel took in his tear-filled eyes and quivering lip before she nearly tackled him in a hug. Despite his weakening state, he matched the strength in her hug measure for measure.

Hiram was the first to pull away, covering his mouth when he let out a yawn. When he pulled his hand away, and Rachel could once again see his face completely, she noticed just how tired he was. Bags were starting to grow under his bloodshot eyes; he must not have slept since he left the castle.

She gently gripped at her father's elbows, "What have you been doing instead of sleeping?" A hint of humor laced her voice and did a good job of masking any worry she felt.

"Worrying about you, working on a few things," he broke off in another yawn. "Mostly worrying about you." It was then that his clouded, sleepless brain remembered exactly why he had been worrying. His own hands excitedly gripped at Rachel's shoulders, and in turn, her hands tightened on his elbows. Hiram's eyes flashed bright as he let out a hearty laugh, the end breaking off into only a small wheeze. "How are you even here right now, Rachel? Did the beast let you go?"

Rachel wasn't quite sure how to answer the second question. _Had_ the beast let her go? It seemed entirely unlikely, but she _was_ right behind Rachel at one point. Perhaps the beast thought the wolves would get to her, and decided to leave it at that.

Before answering, her eyes shifted over to her father's workbench, where she finally saw what he was working on. She picked up the item, careful to not somehow trigger it, and inspected it a bit before raising an eyebrow at Hiram to both scold and inquire.

"It's an, um, enhanced crossbow," he stammered, fiddling with his glasses to keep from having to look into his daughter's judging eyes.

"I can see that." It seemed like a normal crossbow at first glance, bulky and wooden. What wasn't normal was the scope fashioned to the top of it, and the crafted chamber like that of a revolver for quicker loading. Rachel would have been impressed if she wasn't against violence as a whole. "Why would you ever need something like this? We've always been a non-violent family."

Hiram retrieved the crossbow from Rachel and put it back on the workbench before responding, "Yes, well, that was before you were held captive by a giant talking animal." He led her over to a pair of rickety looking chairs and sat down. "I lost you, Rachel. As soon as I got out of that castle, I tried to get help from the town, but, as always, I talked a little too much and nobody wanted to help the crazy old man fight a kidnapping beast. I couldn't just sit around and let you stay in that dreadful place."

"So you decided you would try and fight the beast yourself?" Even Rachel was starting to be a little skeptical of her father's sanity when he nodded, but mostly she just felt loved. She couldn't think of anything else to say except 'Thank you' and 'I love you,' so she stuck with that. She would have leaned over her chair to hug Hiram, but she was already afraid of the chair giving out as it was. Instead, she placed a hand on one of his own and squeezed, "But I'm safe now, and you need to sleep."

"Nonsense. That would mean perfect bonding time wasted. I want to hear about this heroic escape of yours." He smiled.

"Heroic probably isn't the best description," Rachel replied somewhat stiltedly. "I more or less ran away in fear, and she may have let me leave. Finn found me in the woods after I got lost. He was actually rather brave."

The mention of Finn caused Hiram to give a combination of a scoff and a laugh. "Well, I guess he's good for something," he replied, still bitter about the night at the tavern.

When he waved off Rachel's look of confusion, she nodded. She carefully got out of her chair and held a hand out for her father, "Well, if you refuse to get some rest, should we see about making breakfast and catching up?"

* * *

Glasses clinked amongst the chatter in the tavern as Rachel sat primly on one of the barstools. This was possibly the third time she'd ever been inside, and just like the other times, she wondered why she thought it'd be a good idea to go in the first place. Half of the patrons ignored her, while the other half stopped their conversations every few minutes to stare, probably wondering just as much as she was why she was there.

The truth was she just couldn't handle being at home, anymore. The day had started out well, with a quiet breakfast made by her and her father. They talked about pleasant small things like the animals and Hiram's newest ideas for his inventions. But the conversation couldn't stay that way forever, and eventually small talk turned into constant questions about the castle and its inhabitants. And that was when she decided that she needed some air.

She couldn't blame her father for being curious; it was in their family's nature. She just didn't want to spend her first day back home feeling like she was still in the castle. Which was why, when she first left the cabin and heard the whisperings of 'the girl who got lost in the woods,' she decided getting a drink would better suit her needs. So she now sat at the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. The man finally looked her way, and as she opened her mouth to order, a large and calloused hand planted itself on her shoulder.

"Two of the tavern's specialty," Finn ordered as he sat in one of the vacant stools next to Rachel.

Rachel gave a sigh that the ruckus of the tavern drowned out, before turning to Finn and sending a friendly smile his way. Visions blasted behind her eyes; the potential of her night being filled with infuriating mental agony as Finn continued to pester her about whatever tension he felt they had between them. When all he did was smile back and quietly wait for his drink, Rachel decided the situation wouldn't be as bad as she had first thought. There had been a few times in her life, Rachel would admit, where she had been too quick to judge. Perhaps this was one of those times, and a day's worth of attention from the town had been enough for Finn to not need to bother her.

When the drinks came, she thanked the man and stared questioningly at the rust-colored liquid. She glanced at Finn, who in turn just tipped his glass in her direction and took a gulp. Rachel frowned and picked up her own glass. Whatever it was that had been ordered for her burned a trail down her throat as she took cautious sips. The taste that stayed thick and sticky on her tongue, Rachel could only describe as spicy licorice. She grimaced and set the glass off to the side as she looked around the bar.

While most were going through their ignoring phase, she accidentally made eye contact with one of the other patrons. She was doe-eyed and pale with mid-length red hair. She sat only a few seats away, and Rachel tried to recall if they'd met or if she'd even seen her around town before that moment. The woman turned back to her own glass, leaving Rachel in her own thoughts, only for her to be dragged out of them by the man sitting next to her.

Finn cleared his throat and started to wring his hands together. Rachel noticed that he tended to do things like this whenever he was nervous, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. She thought it was cute, in a way. But she had also recently consumed an unknown alcohol.

"Blaine said that women like to be courted," Finn said, a little loud and a little slurred, and Rachel was glad that she hadn't drunk more of the Tavern Specialty. "I thought that was what I was doing already, but I guess I'm supposed to be more…subtle."

Rachel felt stifled as he turned to face her, only vaguely nodding to show that she was listening.

"I'm supposed to, like, give you space, and not talk to you too much about the possibility of us being together," the second part was said with a look of concentration, as if he were reciting lines. It was clear to Rachel that they weren't his own words. "So that's what I'm going to do."

He said it all with a certain finality that made Rachel believe him, and she smiled. For a while they shared a quiet company, only making brief attempts to talk to each other. As always, whenever Rachel brought up a topic that she was interested in, Finn's eyes would glaze over in boredom. Rachel would have been irritated if she didn't finally understand the feeling, since whenever he talked about his own interests, she felt like she'd pass out at any moment. But as the night went on, and more drinks were consumed – at least, by Finn – the man seemed to forget his promise.

"I just don't understand why you don't want to be with me," his voice came out in a scratchy whine as he slammed down his most recent glass against the bar. "I mean, it's not like I haven't done anything for you. I saved your life last night, Rachel!"

She really should have seen this coming. With a somber look like that of a disappointed parent, Rachel regarded Finn before pulling out an apologetic smile.

"I know you did, Finn. And I'm very thankful for that." She reached over and squeezed his bicep in the most comforting way she could, and was offered a half-attempted smile in return. "Yes, you saved my life, but Finn, that doesn't mean I'm going to just drop everything and be with you. That's not how love works."

Finn scoffed and shrugged off Rachel's hand, "But…not even a date? You could probably learn to love me if you tried."

She shook her head and looked back at the bar, "I'm sorry, Finn."

"Whatever, Rachel." And he was gone.

Rachel rubbed at her temple. Finally thirsty enough to finish her drink, she downed the rest in a few gulps. She sat and let the warm buzz wash over her, nowhere near sober enough to notice the approaching figure.

When the woman sat down and lightly bumped against Rachel, she nearly fell out of her seat. She swiveled her head to the side and saw the same large pair of eyes she got lost in not too long ago. She tried to smile at the stranger, but there was an air around her that made her seem…off. And while she knew very well what it was like to be prematurely judged, she was also one who never second-guessed her instincts. However hazy they may be at that moment.

"Well, it sure is a lovely night, isn't it?" Her high-pitched voice threw Rachel off, even though it probably shouldn't have. It was a voice that perfectly matched the woman's outward appearance, she decided. It held a softness that Rachel greatly appreciated, though it made her strain to listen to the woman in the din of the tavern.

The woman seemed high-strung, maybe a little nervous. After a minute of Rachel saying nothing in return – too engrossed in her own thoughts to realize that she hadn't replied – the stranger gave the other woman a too-wide smile that showed just how uncomfortable she was.

"I heard what happened to you. When Finn was telling the story," the woman offered in hopes to get some reaction this time.

Perhaps that was where Rachel had seen her. Despite the strange feeling Rachel had when the woman first sat down, there was still a sense of familiarity there. Maybe she just caught sight of her in the crowd, that morning.

Rachel shrugged, a little embarrassed as she recalled how helpless Finn's retelling made her seem. She silently cursed him and her decision to finish her drink as she once again failed to give the woman an actual response.

"Oh, my name's Emma, by the way," the stranger rushed out, lightly blushing at her lack of manners.

"I'm Rachel…which you already knew." Her stupor seemed to fade at the mention of the woman's name, if even just a little. She triumphantly smiled to herself, though it ended up slightly wobbly.

She swung her head over to look at Emma, and froze as the woman looked into her eyes, almost into her soul, and replied, "Yes, I did." And, like that, the haze completely cleared, and was replaced with something she'd never felt before.


	9. Chapter 8

"I see." It was all Rachel could think of to say.

It wasn't like what Emma said had been particularly earth-shattering, but it was the way she had said it that shook her. Her eyes bore into Rachel's, sparking and sharp. Her tone was somber, and her expression resembled that of something Rachel couldn't decipher before she switched back to her cheery self.

"I mean, who doesn't know you, right? Especially now, after that story."

"Well, not many people are foolish enough to go wandering into the woods without a map," Rachel tried to laugh off her insecurity.

"Now, Rachel, we both know that's not what really happened," Emma's face fell back into that undistinguishable expression, though her voice carried a consoling lilt, and Rachel swallowed.

"Sometimes Finn is quite the unreliable narrator." Rachel wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but her sixth sense had started a gurgling in her stomach. Or perhaps it was the Tavern Specialty revolting against her. Either way, she didn't like it.

Emma turned serious, far more serious than she had throughout the rest of their talk. "I know about the castle…what goes on there."

So many questions flooded through Rachel's mind. She supposed that it would make sense if she and her father weren't the only two people who had ever seen the castle. Despite that, it just didn't seem right. Even if she knew of the castle, how did Emma know of the oddities inside? Was she an escaped prisoner like Rachel?

"I'm not sure I understand."

Emma took a steady breath, "I'm afraid that I was the one that cursed it."

Rachel paused for a moment to let the woman's confession sink in. When her brain had finally made the connections, she gasped and just barely refrained from pointing at Emma.

"You're a witch!" A few of the villagers stopped their conversations to stare at Rachel after her little outburst. Even Emma looked slightly confused and a little off put.

"A witch? Whatever gave you that idea?"

Now Rachel was deathly confused, "But you just said you cursed the castle. I'd assume if you had the ability to use magic-"

She stifled a giggle, "Rachel, just because I'm a magic user doesn't mean I'm automatically a witch. There are many of us out there from many different divisions."

Rachel slowly processed this. So far, what was supposed to be a relaxing night out had turned into nothing but annoyance and confusion. No matter how much she wished to just end this conversation as quickly as possible, she couldn't possibly stop it now. Not when she was so close to getting the story of that mysterious castle.

"If you're not a witch, then what are you?"

Emma smiled. She absolutely loved talking about her job. "You see, there are different factions of the same job. You have your fairy godmothers, and your wicked witches, your sorceresses, and your wizards. And then you have me: an enchantress."

"And what do the enchantresses do?" Rachel asked.

"A little of this, a little of that," Emma gave her a non-answer. "I, personally, specialize in helping people discover and reach their full potential. Though, I've come to realize that 'specialize' might not be the best word."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not exactly the best at my job." Emma sighed, preparing herself for a lengthy tale, "Quinn wasn't-"

"Quinn?" Rachel interrupted.

She blinked, a little surprised that she had to explain, "Yes. The furry thing that lives in the castle, she's Quinn. Her mother wanted to name her Lucy, but Lord Fabray decided the name wasn't strong enough for a future ruler of his kingdom."

"Quinn…" Rachel let the name linger on her tongue. It left behind a taste that counteracted the bitterness of the Tavern Specialty. She decided not to think about it.

"Yes, well, she wasn't the first person I had used this spell on. The first was a travelling thief named Holly. We crossed paths on one of the forest trails, and she tried to steal a satchel of gold from me. So, I turned her into a mountain lion type creature and told her that she would have to stay that way until she learned to care about the well-being of others. And…she didn't. She ended up having to live out the rest of her life as the beast that I made her."

"That's awful." Rachel couldn't comprehend it. The rest of her life spent inside a monstrosity that was once her body. It made the gurgling in her stomach intensify tenfold.

Emma nodded, her eyes downcast, "It actually gets worse."

"How could it possibly get worse?" Before Emma could answer, realization hit Rachel. Recollection of that fateful night swam through her; the first night the entire town thought of Finn as a hero. The cries of the mountain lion that slowly faded into whimpers, then to nothing.

"After years spent in that new body, she just…stopped thinking like a human, I guess. I didn't think anything like that could happen."

"And after all that you still decided to use it on somebody else?" Rachel wasn't sure whether she was more angry or astounded, and whether it was more on Holly's or Quinn's behalf.

"I figured she'd be cured by now," she responded. "You saw how many people live in that castle! If I had known…," her voice started to crackle and waver. "I-I can't have another life on my hands, Rachel. I can barely live with the one. "

Looking at the slightly broken enchantress before her, Rachel couldn't help but feel a little guilty for snapping at her. "Is there anything I can do?"

Emma bobbled her head, taking a deep breath, "That's actually why I came here, tonight." She took the ensuing silence from the other woman as a cue to go on, "I need you to go back."

Rachel's jaw flapped around uselessly for a moment, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I have things here that I have to worry about, like my father. And even if there weren't, I didn't exactly leave the castle on the best of terms. I could only imagine how furious she is with me. I don't want to even _think_ about what she'd do if she saw me again."

As she listened to the other woman's explanation, Emma drummed her fingers against her lap in thought. "What if I could promise you that both you and your father would be fine?"

"And how on earth could you do that?" a lone brow rose in challenge.

Emma mulled over how to answer, "Well, I can almost certainly assure you that the castle would love to have your company again." When Rachel was about to ask another question, she held up her hand, "As a rule of my trade, that's all I can say. And as for your father, let's just say he'll be in good hands."

To put it lightly, Rachel didn't fully trust Emma – especially not enough to abandon her father to go to what might possibly be her death at the hands of a livid beast. From her peripheral vision, she watched as Emma sat – back stiffer than her own – and warily eyed the counter of the bar; scooting away a little to make perfectly sure that she wouldn't touch it. She didn't seem at all like the sinister type, certainly not one who would destroy the life of an innocent woman such as Rachel. However, if she _were_ telling the truth, that would mean she was already responsible for the death of one woman, and would potentially be responsible for another, so that point proved illogical.

There was absolutely no security in deciding to go back to that castle, and yet Rachel couldn't help but wonder about her purpose there.

"What would you need me to do? If I go back, that is."

Emma didn't think she'd get this far. "Uh…it's simple, really," she stalled, trying to think of something to say. "I just need you to keep her tied to her humanity, make sure she doesn't slip. Eventually she'll learn her lesson and revert back to her old self."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Rachel. Something that she, for some reason, didn't think of before. "Wait, why can't you just lift the curse?"

"Because it doesn't work like that," she whisper-shouted. When she saw Rachel's slightly fearful reaction, Emma calmed herself and continued, "And even if it did, she still has to learn. I might not be the best at my job, but I don't go around ruining people's lives just because I get a kick out of it. If Quinn doesn't learn her lesson, then I've failed at doing my job. For once, I'd like to do the opposite of that."

Rachel nodded, accepting the answer, and watched as Emma slowly got up off of her stool, once again making sure not to touch the bar.

"Look, it's your choice, ultimately, but I really think they could use your help." Emma stifled a small yawn, "I hope you don't mind, but it's getting late, so I think I'll be heading home. You should go, too. You have a bit of a travel waiting for you, tomorrow. If you decide to go, that is."

Rachel looked around the bar, noticing that quite a few people had already left, "So, that's it? How will you know if I go? What if I just decide to stay home?"

Emma stared at her for a second, before smiling and turning to leave. "I'll know."

* * *

The walk home was taken at a leisurely pace, despite the cold. Rachel had a lot of thinking that she had to get done before she made it to the cottage. It was no doubt that Hiram would turn into a worrisome doting father as soon as she walked through their door, asking why she had been out so long and if he could do anything to make her feel better. She wouldn't be able to have a chance to think about her current situation with his chaotic helpfulness happening around her.

Her father was her main focus. With his declining health, and Emma's non-answer about his safety, Rachel really wasn't sure she felt like risking anything. Hiram was the last tie she had left to…anything, really. All her life, her father had been there to clean off whatever scrapes and bruises the other kids gave her. He'd always been the one to give her words of encouragement, promising that one day she'd show the world just how bright she could shine. And despite her prideful attitude, without her father's support, she didn't think she could get anywhere with just her talent (as rare and awe-inspiring as it was). She didn't want to give all of that up for some…

For some poor, trapped girl. Rachel sighed.

She loathed the idea of giving any pity to the beast. She was cruel and careless, but after tonight, she wasn't sure if that was the woman or the curse's fault. She never did think to ask the enchantress why Quinn had been cursed, but assumed it had something to do with why it happened to Holly.

She swung her arms to and fro in an attempt to create some body heat. It was getting colder out, and soon it would be winter. Her father never did well in the cold. She wished that her conversation with Emma, especially when it came to her father's health, hadn't been left so open-ended. The more she thought about it, there were actually a lot of questions left unanswered. Emma had probably done that on purpose, trying to manipulate Rachel into going back to the castle. She hated to admit it, but it was working.

How would Rachel be able to have more control over the beast than any of her servants? Was it because she was still human, while everyone else in the castle…wasn't? Maybe her objective there was to just do human things, like eat proper amounts of food and wear clothes. She laughed despite herself.

Knowing Quinn's name added a certain humanity to all of this. No matter how terrible she was to Rachel or her father, she was still a woman trapped. Foiled by her own wrongdoings, but was it enough to suffer a fate worse than death? There was something there that made Rachel want to get to know Quinn more, to see if she truly was the monster that Rachel had originally perceived her to be.

When she neared the family cottage, Rachel lightly hit her head on the door with a groan. It was becoming increasingly clear that a blind leap of faith was necessary in making her decision. What awaited her at that mysterious castle could be the adventure she'd been looking for all her life. The chance to finally prove that she could be more and do more than everybody who had looked down on her.

Or it could be her untimely demise at the hands of a raging beast and her talking furniture friends.

She quietly slipped into the darkened house, hoping that she'd been gone long enough for her father to be in bed already. Instead, Rachel had found him curled over the dining table, snoring softly and his glasses loosely grasped in his hand. With a smile, Rachel gently prodded him until he woke up, rubbing his free hand across his face as he yawned and stretched and replaced his glasses onto his head.

"Rachel? What time is it?" Hiram mumbled with a sleep-stained voice.

"It's late. I'm sorry I was out so long, Dad. I have something I need to discuss with you, but it can wait until morning."

His bones creaked as he got up from the chair and stood to his full height. "No, no, let's talk."

"I'm not budging this time. Move it, mister!" Rachel went stern-faced and dramatically pointed to Hiram's bedroom. He chuckled and patted her on the head, kissing her forehead and following his daughter's orders.

Rachel pushed in his chair and looked around the cottage. There were knickknacks and books and her father's past successful inventions placed throughout, making it the homiest place Rachel had ever been to. Even in the shadows of the darkness, Rachel could tell what was where. In the corner, by what used to be Leroy's favorite chair, was the man's old viola – left untouched since his passing.

In that corner, accompanied with the crackling fireplace, Leroy would play soft, lilting melodies as Rachel would sing and Hiram would simply sit and listen. Occasionally he would join the two in a duet, but more often than not, he just watched them perform. When Rachel asked why, he said it was because he liked to pretend that they were putting on a private concert for him.

She eventually made her way into her own bedroom, dressing for bed and curling up under the covers. For a few sleepless hours, all she did was relish in the feeling of being in her bed again. It might be the last time she'd ever get to be there.


	10. Chapter 9

"I want to go back." It came out without a hint of preamble.

She was sitting at the table, watching as Hiram cooked their breakfast, and drumming her hands against the table as she tried to think of a subtle way to slide into the topic. Instead, she apparently decided to crash headfirst into the topic, because since when was subtlety something Rachel practiced?

Hiram paused in his ministrations. He slowly spun around to face Rachel, leaving the porridge to boil on the stove. "You…I'm sorry?" He sat down in the chair across from hers, silently hoping it wasn't what he was thinking.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about, last night," Rachel started, her voice gentler than usual. "Last night, I was at the tavern-"

"_That's_ where you were?"

"Please, Dad."

"Sorry." Chided, Hiram sat up straighter and waved for Rachel to continue.

"I was at the tavern, and this strange woman came up to me. She told me she was an enchantress, that she caused what happened at the castle," Rachel swallowed, "and she wants me to go back. At first, I said no, but…she thinks I can help them."

He leaned back in his chair, lips tight as he listened to Rachel's story. When she finished, he ran a hand through his hair and pushed up his glasses, "And how do you know she wasn't just some crazy drunkard? You were at that…tavern full of useless lay-abouts, after all."

She shrugged one of her shoulders, "I just…felt it. You know how I am, sometimes."

Hiram nodded, "The family's sixth sense. You get that from me, you know." He put his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table.

There was a brief silence where they finally heard the porridge boiling over. It was far from the first time that had happened, so Hiram was unbothered to rush as he got up to take the pot off of the flame.

Rachel watched as he filled two bowls. She plowed on into the heart of the discussion, "I think I have to do this. I could save people's lives, Dad. This could be the thing I was waiting for, the chance to do something great." A small amount of excitement started to bubble up inside her and mix with her trepidation as she thought about it. "I want to go back."

Hiram quietly set down Rachel's breakfast in front of her before sitting down with his own bowl. He looked at his daughter, fully grown and ready to take on the world, and thought of the years he'd spent taking care of her, and all the years she'd spent staying home and taking care of him.

"Then go."

He watched Rachel's nervous expression slide into one of shock, and smiled. "Honey, I'm not going to control your life. You make your own decisions. While I think this is a little…insane, it's your choice to make. If you think it's important, and it's the right thing to do, then go. I'll cheer for you every step of the way."

With a large smile, Rachel hopped out of her chair and bent down to cling onto her father in a tight hug. "I have to go today," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He ran a soothing hand over her hair, "Then I guess you should sit back down and start eating your breakfast."

As they ate, they talked more about the encounter at the tavern. She told him how Emma had promised her protection, as well as his own. He looked relieved, and slightly questionable, but didn't say a word. Instead, he took in every word his daughter spoke, memorizing the sound and quietly chuckling as she excitedly rambled.

Eventually, the time came for her to depart. At the door, they hugged again, Rachel clutching a bag of clothes she thought best to pack, and both secretly reveling in the dramatics of their tear-filled goodbyes.

Rachel went out the door as Hiram wiped at his eyes, then watched out the window as his daughter disappeared down the path, and a lone crow hopped around in the field.

* * *

This time, whether it was because she knew where she was going, or because she didn't have to control a scaredy-horse, she was at the gate faster than when Philippe had to lead her. It was closed, but thankfully not locked, so she pushed it open and followed the stone path up to the familiar castle. She debated whether or not to knock once she was at the door, and wondered if somebody would answer if they even heard the knocking. Instead, like last time, she opened the door and stepped inside, preparing herself for the worst despite Emma's word.

It was quiet, and her footsteps echoed as she walked through the halls. She was about to call out until, just there, at the entrance of the West Wing, she saw them. The four servants stood at the staircase, their faces varying from Ms. Jones' glum to Brittany's bemused.

"I think we should do something," Brittany said.

Ms. Jones shook her head, "We can't do much of anything. We'll just have to wait until she decides to come down on her own time. We shouldn't be down on ourselves just because her majesty can't control her temper."

"We have to move on, and stop blaming Miss. It's not…_entirely_ her fault," Kurt muttered.

"I still think you came on too strong," Jesse replied, side-eyeing Kurt.

"I was just showing some hospitality!"

Rachel tried to hold back her laughter as the candelabra and the clock fell into their usual bickering, only for a few giggles to escape her lips. They wafted over the fight and settled in Brittany's ears, causing her to spin around.

"Rachel!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and gaped at the woman. She gave them a little wave and her best show smile, and they all practically charged at her in response. Rachel would have been worried for her safety if they weren't so small.

"I can't believe you came back!" Jesse grinned at Rachel, then, after a pause, asked, "Why in hell did you come back?"

Kurt elbowed him hard in the side. "Not that we aren't extremely happy about it! Your presence was deeply missed, but prisoners don't normally go back to their prison after escaping."

"Oh, who cares about that," Ms. Jones butted in. "The point is you're back. Why don't we save questions for later? I'm sure you're tired from your trip, would you like us to show you to your room? It would be the same one as last time, unless you had any problems with it. I'm sure we could make other arrangements."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "Now who's coming on too strong?"

Ms. Jones glared at him as Rachel cleared her throat and straightened up, surveying the servants and their surrounding area. "Before I'm shown to my room, I would like to talk to…her." She stared dumbly at the top of the stairs, where everyone else's eyes followed to see the beast, sitting on all fours.

Her expression was unreadable as she slowly stalked toward the small group. When she hit the landing, she stood on her hind legs.

"Leave us," she said to her workers without taking her eyes off of the woman.

They left, but not without a nod from Rachel, saying it was okay. As they walked away, Jesse whispered, "Don't screw this up," hoping Quinn's enhanced hearing would catch it. When he turned around and saw her ears flatten against her head, he knew it had.

The beast waited until she was certain they were all gone before speaking, "I was going to come down and ask what all the shouting was about, but I suppose I know, now." It was an awkward start, but it was the best she had at the moment.

Rachel crossed her arms and raised her nose, "Yes, I suppose you do."

It was clear to Quinn that they weren't going to get anywhere without getting something out of the way. Her claws scratched at the scruff of her neck as she looked around the room, avoiding Rachel's stony gaze that was making her feel surprisingly small.

"I, uhm…I'm sorry about what happened."

Rachel gave a brief nod, "Thank you. While I admit I knowingly broke your rules, the resulting fallout was far from necessary." If the beast disagreed at all, she kept it to herself as she nodded.

"Okay, now that we have that covered," she lifted up her bag of clothes, "I want to come back."

Quinn stared at the bag until everything started to click into place. "You…wish to stay here?" Quinn asked, a furry eyebrow fully arched. "By choice?"

"Yes, but under a few conditions." She only thought about her plan in passing as she made her way to the castle. If what the enchantress said was true, she wouldn't need to try very hard to get Quinn to agree to her terms. It was a thought that kept her brave enough to go back to the castle in the first place.

Quinn was skeptical, but motioned her to go on. "I will stay here, not as your prisoner, but as your guest. You will not demand I go anywhere, nor do anything. And if I do something you disagree with, we will discuss it like two civilized human beings."

The beast grumbled, trying her hardest not to snap at the woman for telling her how to run her castle. "Fine, but no going into the-" she was cut off by Rachel's challenging gaze. "I…kindly request that you do not enter the West Wing without permission. Please," she forced out.

Rachel was still for a moment, trying to make out the beast's sincerity. When Quinn noticed what was happening, she gave a smile that she hoped didn't look too intimidating. Apparently it was acceptable, for right after, Rachel delightedly clapped her hands together.

"This is so exciting! I've always wanted to live in a castle. Don't worry, I'll see myself to my room and will be down for lunch shortly."

Rachel hurried off, leaving a thoroughly confused Quinn behind. Eventually, she gave up trying to explain the situation herself, and went to find her four prized servants.

* * *

The five of them sat in silence in the parlor. The beast was hunched over in her chair, staring at the fireplace and trying to figure out what it all meant.

"You know what they say," Kurt chuckled awkwardly, trying to shake off his own confusion, "never look a gift horse in the mouth…and all that."

"I just don't get it," Ms. Jones mumbled.

As soon as Quinn found them, she told her servants of the conversation between Rachel and herself. The ensuing silence afterward spoke for itself.

"This is good, though…right?" Brittany asked the room. "I mean, we have Rachel back, which means we have another chance. You just have to learn to be nice."

"I am nice!" Quinn argued, her voice echoing throughout the parlor.

"Oh yeah, you're just a pretty little puppy," Kurt deadpanned and Quinn glowered at him.

She sank further into her chair as Jesse hopped towards her, "It might do you well to re-learn some main etiquette rules. What would Madame Sylvester think if she saw you now?"

Quinn grimaced at the thought. Madame Sylvester was a cutthroat woman who was Quinn's advisor in everything she needed to become future ruler of the kingdom. When it came to etiquette, it didn't matter to her if your arm was lying bloody on the floor; you still better damn well have proper hold of your teacup.

"If Rachel wants a civilized human being, we'll give her the closest thing we can make," Kurt declared. He started pacing, planning things in his head. "It would be nice if you stopped walking around on all fours like some wild animal. Maybe a 'please' and a 'thank you' without having them dragged out of you. A curtsy here or there..."

"To curtsy, I would have to wear a dress," the beast countered.

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Quinn quickly shook her head, her fur flying outward with the movement. "Absolutely not. I haven't worn clothes in _years_. Besides, nothing I have fits, anymore. I've tried; I just look like a giant furball."

"You do anyway," Jesse smirked. "You still have your tailors…somewhere," he trailed off. "They're lying around someplace in the castle, I'm sure."

"There are a lot of people we don't see, anymore," Brittany quietly commented. "I hope they're okay…"

Kurt continued with his train of thought, "We'll get you a fitting, we'll find the tailors, and they'll make you a dress. You don't even have to wear it all the time, just for special occasions. Oh, and we can make one for Rachel, too! A nice ball gown for the both of you, maybe." He walked out of the room without waiting for the beast's response, but all she did was sigh and accept her fate.

Ms. Jones started to hop out of the room as well, "Since that's settled, I'll go let the kitchen know to prepare lunch."

"I can already tell this is going to be exciting." Jesse laughed at Quinn's pained expression.

"It'll be easy," the clock continued as both he and Brittany started to leave the parlor. "Just play dress up, learn to smile like you're not ready to pounce on a herd of deer, throw a few compliments her way, and we'll be back to our handsome selves in no time."

Before Brittany was fully out of the room, she turned and watched as the beast sulked in her chair. She gracefully swept back toward her and waited until her presence was noticed.

Quinn's eyes went from her paws to the feather duster that stood before her. She slowly blew out a breath that rumbled in her chest. "I've never really done anything like this, before," she admitted. "Courting people."

"It's simple, really. Just don't listen to Jesse. I think he's going off of something that…isn't love," her eyebrows scrunched together. "My mom always told me, when I was little, that to find love, all you have to do is be yourself, and one day, the person meant just for you will come along." Brittany nodded, feeling like she'd given the beast some secret wisdom, and glided back out of the room in search of something that needed dusting.

Quinn simply sat in her chair for a moment, drinking in Brittany's advice. She didn't have the heart to tell Brittany, but she didn't have much time left to wait for her person to come. Then again…

"It's been a while since I've been myself, hasn't it?" Quinn commented to the empty room, looking down at her body clad in nothing but fur.


	11. Chapter 10

54 followers, 13 favorites, and 8 reviews? That's a pretty big deal. Glad you guys are liking it, so far. And as a thank you, this chapter's a little bit longer than usual (that's a lie, it's just a coincidence that this already written chapter was longer than normal, I'm sorry I deceived you).

* * *

With what little time Rachel had spent there, so far, she got to know the people of the castle more. Particularly Quinn's closest, and seemingly most beloved, of the workers.

Tina was originally a handmaiden gifted to Quinn when they were both young. She was raised in a family of servants, and taught the 'family trade,' as they called it, from a very young age. When they felt she was ready, her parents sent her to the Fabray castle in hopes that they'd have something for her to do. It just so happened that the time of her arrival marked a week before Quinn's 10th birthday.

Kurt's father, Burt, had worked for the royal family. Expertly doing any odd jobs the lord and lady gave him, but specializing in carpentry and taking care of the carriages, he quickly became their most loyal and most trusted of workers. He had a wife, who died shortly after giving birth to their only child. Kurt spent his early years in the castle, where he would watch his father work, but more often than not he would sneak off to watch the tailors do their job. One rainy season, Burt fell deathly ill. Before passing, he asked the lord and lady to watch over his son, and they agreed. He was more of a guest than he was a worker, but they still gave him random jobs to keep him busy – like lighting the castle during the darkened hours, and darkening it when the inhabitants of the castle retired. Eventually, he moved up into an advisor type role, but still took care of the lighting out of habit.

There wasn't much to Brittany. A wanderer looking for work and shelter, she found herself at the castle, offering her services to Quinn in any way she could. She was skeptical at first, but after seeing how thorough of a job Brittany did at cleaning, the maiden welcomed her. She had actually joined the staff only months before the spell was cast on the castle. When Rachel asked her how she felt about that, all Brittany said was, "Everything happens for a reason."

Ms. Jones was the oldest of many siblings, and because of her experience in helping raise children, she had originally aspired to be a nanny. But when work came up short, she decided to broaden her horizons. While working at the castle, she primarily took care of the tea, but every so often she would help out in the kitchen.

Jesse didn't seem to have an actual job at the castle, at least not one that Rachel could figure out. He didn't give her many answers when she asked him questions about his past. Just that he'd lived at the castle most of his life. He seemed to practically overflow with pride – balking when Rachel dared to call him a servant. Rachel could respect that.

With every new fact learned about her new housemates, she couldn't help but think about the one story she had yet to hear.

She hadn't seen much of Quinn at all, in her few days there. The beast seemed to only let herself be seen during meals, where they would only quietly sit and eat, much to Rachel's discomfort. She had tried to start a conversation once, but Quinn only glared at her in return. She assumed she had broken some royal decree known only to the beast, and didn't try again.

The beast's actions were starting to annoy her. What was the point of leaving her father and going back to the castle, if she couldn't keep an eye on Quinn like Emma wanted? Not only that, but it was far from polite to ignore a houseguest. She asked the others about Quinn's cold and often unresponsive behavior, but all they did was shrug or shake their heads. They seemed as upset about it as she was.

Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of her as she ascended the stairs up to the West Wing. She thought better than to try and follow her. By chance, as she was making her way to her bedroom one late afternoon, Rachel just barely managed to catch the beast before she began to walk the stairs.

"You know, it's been days since I've been here, and I haven't received so much as a 'good morning.'" Rachel's nostrils flared slightly as she stormed towards Quinn.

Quinn's tail twitched in agitation at the harshness in Rachel's voice, but she did her best to calm herself before facing the woman. "I'm sorry?"

"You should be," Rachel scolded. "Everyone else has taken their time to get properly acquainted with me. If I was tested with questions about their past, I would pass with flying colors! Well…except for Jesse. But I still know more about him than I do you!" While Rachel stared at the finger she had unconsciously jabbed at the beast's chest, she silently prayed to whatever was listening that Emma was right and she would remain safe.

Meanwhile, Quinn barely even noticed the offending finger. She was far too baffled by the rest of the woman's actions. It had been _years _since anyone dared to challenge her behavior. Quinn's tail started to twitch for a completely different reason.

"What is it you would like to know, exactly?" she stiltedly questioned, a glint in her eye as she refrained from snarling at the woman.

Surprised, yet relieved at her response, Rachel quickly removed her finger from the soft fur. Finally seeing an in to start her work, she asked, "How about your name?"

Flustered by the question, she went silent for a while. Whether it was because she didn't want to tell her or because she couldn't remember it to tell, Rachel didn't know.

"I…Quinn. My name is Quinn."

Rachel smiled, "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn."

Quinn coughed in an attempt to disguise the pleased sound she made at hearing her name.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you spend so much time in the West Wing? I've been there, myself, and I can tell you it's nothing in comparison to the rest of your castle," Rachel joked, and quickly regretted it as Quinn stiffened.

"I'm not used to people wanting me around." She paused. "Sometimes, contrary to the belief of my servants, I actually don't prefer to be alone." It was a statement that greatly confused Rachel.

"Then why don't you ask them for more company? I'm sure they'd understand. They might like to see you around more."

"They see me enough, already. I'm not foolish enough to think that they stayed here because of my company."

"I-I don't think I understand."

Quinn barked out a bitter laugh, "Do you think they're here because they want to be? Kurt, Tina, Ms. Jones, and Brittany; they all work for me. If they were still human, they would have left long ago." She turned her back on Rachel, again trying to make her way up the steps to her chamber.

It was then, with the beast's back to her, that Rachel remembered every detail of the night in the woods, after Finn had rescued her. That mournful howl that she could clearly place as Quinn's.

"Why did you let me escape?" Rachel asked. Quinn froze, but there was nothing but silence in response, so Rachel pushed forward. "In the woods. I know you were there, that night, Quinn, so why?"

She let out some form of a scoff and a grunt, "You clearly didn't want to be here with me- _us_! With us…and that man you were with had a gun. I thought it was best to let you go and not be mistaken for one of the animals in the forest."

Quinn once again tried to make an exit, only to be stopped by a small hand over halfway up her back. She turned around with a quizzical eye as Rachel pulled back.

"You tore me away from my dad, and you held me captive. Of course I didn't want to stay here." She searched Quinn's golden eyes, trying to see past the swirls of color, "But I'm back, because I want to be here, now. And I think I would enjoy having your company, and so would the others, if you'd let us in."

Rachel walked away, and Quinn successfully made her trek up to her chamber.

* * *

"Fix it."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yes, but _how_?"

"I don't know," Jesse shrugged, "that's for you to figure out. I'm the one that told you to _not_ screw it up, remember?"

The beast roared in pain as a brush was yanked through her fur, and Kurt winced in apology. The usual crowd, minus Brittany, was gathered in Quinn's private bath. They had barged into the room while she was in the middle of both bathing and trying to clear her mind of all things Rachel. The latter, she had decided as she was bombarded with questions about the beauty, was nothing but a lost cause.

Forgetting Rachel wouldn't have done her any good, anyway. It was a silly idea brought on by multiple things. It came from revealing any sign of weakness to anyone, especially someone she knew as long as Rachel. It came from the glowing warmth that erupted inside her when she heard Rachel say her name. It came from the way Rachel looked into her eyes at the end, and the hard thumping in Quinn's chest in response. Of course, this was all a part of the plan, and she should have been happy that she felt something, _anything_, for the woman. She just didn't expect it to happen so suddenly.

She had told her servants about her and Rachel's talk in very little detail. She fixed them with her glare before they tried to pry anymore information out of her, and they decided what she gave them was enough. After her bath was over, she sat on an uncomfortable footstool, soggy body hunched over and wrapped in a towel as Kurt tried to comb through her mane.

"Give her a gift," Ms. Jones suggested.

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea. A little something personal to show that you care," Kurt absently commented, trying to remove hair from the brush with his non-hands.

The question was, _what_? Except for her father, Quinn didn't know of anything that Rachel liked. And it was near impossible for Quinn to go into town, let alone track down a man she'd only seen once in the dark, so that ruled that option out.

What Rachel wanted – what Quinn _knew_ Rachel wanted – was to learn more about Quinn. And there was only one way she knew how to give that to the woman.

"What are you going to do?" Kurt asked after a period of silence.

"I'm going to let her in."

* * *

Brittany twirled herself atop the dresser with a grace that Rachel guessed would take years of practice to manage. She watched on with mild fascination. It was an interesting experience, watching a feather duster clean by itself. For a short while, she tried to figure out what object she would turn into if she were cursed. Then she concluded that being cooped up in her bedroom for the past few hours was slowly driving her insane. But she still didn't feel like leaving any time soon.

After her encounter with Quinn, she had busted into the room and immediately started ranting to Tina about how difficult the beast could be. Of course, she didn't expect leaps and bounds of improvement between the two of them so quickly, but she hoped that things would have gone smoother than they did. Still, she could feel some sense of accomplishment in discovering that Quinn was not yet too far gone. She remembered her name, for one, and was obviously still able to feel something aside from anger: loneliness.

What perplexed Rachel the most was how Quinn couldn't see how much her workers cared for her. Rachel could easily tell in the way they spoke about her. No matter the actual words, there was always some fondness behind them.

She didn't know how long she ended up talking, but she only stopped when there was a quiet thumping at the door. She opened it to reveal Brittany, reporting for a routine weekly cleaning. She thought she might have heard a sigh of relief from Tina.

In hopes to stay away from Quinn for a little while, Rachel had stayed and watched Brittany work. She wished she hadn't, as Brittany meticulously searched every square inch of the room for any speck of dust, shushing Rachel whenever she tried to make small talk. Thankfully, another rapping at her door sounded out, and with a relieved sigh of her own, she rushed to answer it.

"Oh, it's you," she attempted nonchalance at the sight of Quinn on the other side of the door, and decided not to question the bit of enjoyment she got from causing the irked expression on the beast's face.

Quinn stood tall and threw her shoulders back in an air of defiance, "Who else would it be?" From behind Rachel, Brittany stopped her dusting long enough to send a stern look her way, and the beast slowly shrunk back to her normal height.

Rachel huffed and made to close the door, but Quinn caught it with her paw, "Wait, I'm sorry. Just…give me some time. I'm not used to this."

She stared at Quinn for a while before removing her hands from the door, "Not used to what?"

"You. People not just accepting whatever I give them."

"Well, I've never been one to let myself get pushed around."

Quinn felt herself relax slightly when she spotted the hint of a smile pulling at Rachel's lips, "I'll try to remember that."

"Was there something you needed, Quinn?"

"Yes, actually. There's something I need to show you." She held out one of her paws, masterfully controlling its timid shaking. "Please."

Rachel didn't know what had happened to Quinn since she last saw her, and she didn't really care. Whether it was from Quinn taking Rachel's words to heart, or something brought on by Quinn herself, she still marked it as progress.

Rachel gently placed her hand in the offered paw and marveled at the differences. The size was the most obvious, especially when Quinn easily enveloped Rachel's hand in her own. That's when she noticed how warm Quinn's hand was compared to hers, even if it was just because of the fur. She felt the scratch of calluses on the pads of the paw, and it made her wonder how often Quinn walked around on all fours.

She was paying so much attention to the intricate details of the creature's hand; Rachel didn't notice that Quinn had already led them to their destination. Rachel stood, dumbfounded, staring at the staircase to the West Wing. Slowly, she turned to face the beast and waited for an explanation. What she got was an uncomfortable smile as Quinn let go of her hand and started up the stairs.

Halfway up the steps, Quinn paused when she noticed she wasn't being followed.

"Are you coming?" she asked, looking down at the woman expectantly.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it and made her way up the stairs. Once they both hit the landing, Quinn sucked in a breath, long and deep, before slowly letting it out.

"There are a few things I have to tell you," she started before walking down the hallway. Rachel immediately followed.

The sound of footfalls echoed as they wandered down the hall, seemingly directionless. Rachel was about to ask why they were there when Quinn spoke again.

"I've never exactly been the nicest person. People feared me even before I turned into this," she waved at her body. "They didn't think I knew, but I did. And I used it against them. A lot. Everyone was too afraid to counter me, and I took humor in that fact."

She stopped in her travel, almost causing Rachel to run into her. Quinn turned to face her, "They were nothing like you. How you manage to fit so much attitude in such a tiny body, I'll never understand."

Rachel's lips puckered in annoyance, but it drained away when she heard Quinn laugh.

"I want to give you something. What's the one thing you enjoy most in life, the thing you couldn't possibly live without?"

"Music," Rachel's answer was immediate.

Quinn smiled, "Perfect." And she started to walk again.

Further down the hallway, they stopped at a set of double doors that Rachel didn't notice, before. They were simple in design, unlike the others she saw, but just as large. She watched as Quinn tightly gripped each handle and pushed the doors open with a flourish, then stepped aside and motioned for Rachel to enter.

She took tentative steps inside, closing her eyes until she had fully entered the room. When she opened them, Rachel just about fainted. Inside those walls was a multitude of instruments, many Rachel had only read about in her various books. An army of strings and woodwinds and brass played a symphony in Rachel's head as she cheerily examined every one. Up against the walls were bookcases full of music from faraway lands that she could only dream of. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, but otherwise looked undamaged.

She spun around to face Quinn, eyes bright and smile wide. Quinn smiled in return, tail swishing happily at the woman's reaction.

"I'm assuming you like it."

Rachel could only nod.

"Then it's yours."

Smile never leaving her face, Rachel attempted to protest, "Oh, Quinn, this is all so magnificent, but I couldn't possibly-"

"Please," Quinn held up her hand. "This was my second favorite room when I was a human; that's why it was left untouched. I knew how to play nearly every instrument in here, and I used to sing a lot, too. But these new hands make it hard to do much of anything, and I can't sing anymore with the voice I have." A sly smile spread across her lips, "It would be a shame to have this room go to waste when there's somebody living here that could actually use it."

Rachel didn't need very much convincing. "You're right, it would be a waste. I…thank you, Quinn."

Quinn looked over the room, "I'll have to get Brittany and the other maids to do a quick sweep through before you get to use it, but after that, you're free to come here any time you like."

"Any time?" Realization had finally sunk in. As wonderful as the gift was by itself, it was more than just a music room. Quinn was welcoming her into her makeshift sanctuary, the only place she claimed as just her own.

And Quinn only smiled and nodded and left the room, tail still gently swaying.

Rachel left the room soon after Quinn, and was surprised to see the beast was waiting for her.

"There's one more thing I need to show you," Quinn said before once again heading down the hall.

This time, they walked until they reached the end of the hall. Rachel's spine tingled at the remembrance of what happened the last time she was there, but managed to push those thoughts far back into her mind. This wasn't like the last time, she told herself. This time, Quinn was letting her in.

Quinn pushed open the chamber doors and walked in first, all the way to the last intact piece of furniture. To the stand with the glowing gardenia. Rachel stood at the doorway for a time, watching as Quinn stared at the flower.

"Before, I said I wasn't used to people not accepting whatever I gave them. I think it's only happened once, before you came along." Then, she added as an afterthought, "Well, except for all the times with Jesse, but he doesn't really count."

"Why?"

"The way he explains it; as my younger brother, he's supposed to give me a hard time."

Rachel stood, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape, before shaking off the surprise. "I…suppose that makes sense."

The beast eyed the mirror that lay next to the gardenia, before picking it up and turning to face Rachel. "The time before was when I denied an old woman shelter, just because I could. She ended up secretly being an enchantress, trying to test my generosity, and she cursed me for it." She held out the mirror, letting Rachel take hold of it. "She gave me this and the gardenia. The mirror is to help me see the world I'm missing out on, I guess. Ask for it to show you something."

She thought for a moment, and then looked at the mirror, "Show me my dad."

Green light shimmered across the reflective surface, and then slowly dimmed enough to reveal Hiram, comfortably tucked away in his bed as he slept soundly. She smiled at the sight of the man, enjoying it for a little while longer before handing the mirror back.

"Thank you. And what about the gardenia?" Rachel asked, looking back at the flower.

"That…that's not important." Rachel could tell this was a topic that Quinn wouldn't budge on, so she accepted the answer for what it was.

The sight of her father sleeping made Rachel's body realize just how late it had become, and she yawned. "This has been wonderful, Quinn, but it's gotten late and I think all this excitement has taken its toll on me."

"I understand, I'm a little spent, myself. Goodnight, Rachel. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Quinn." Rachel gave her a soft smile and headed back to her room. Before she left, she added over her shoulder, "Thank you for letting me in."


	12. Chapter 11

The night in the West Wing wasn't a major turning point, but the start of a slow process. Though rare, there were times when Quinn would make idle chatter during their meals. She had started to spend more time around the castle, which in turn meant her servants spent more time with her. It also gave Rachel more time to spend with the beast.

She was surprised at how utterly unremarkable she thought Quinn's appearance was, after a while. In fact, everything about the castle had become commonplace to Rachel. By the end of her first week there, she finally stopped getting lost in the labyrinth of hallways. When she went outside, she no longer minded the crows that seemed to be a permanent fixture to the castle. But still, a slight thrill would always go through her whenever she went to the music room.

Sometimes she would catch some of the servants in the West Wing, slowly but surely restoring it to its original beauty to the best of their abilities. There hadn't been much quiet in the wing, since Quinn reopened it to the public. Rachel was just thankful for the music room's soundproofed walls.

Every day, as she walked through the West Wing, there was one set of doors that Rachel couldn't help but focus on. Every day they stood untouched, chained up to keep the world out. And every day, Rachel fought to keep from asking _why_.

One morning, on a rarely quiet day in the West Wing, after breakfast, she sat at the piano in the music room, tinkering with the instrument while practicing her scales. After her throat was sufficiently warmed up, she pulled out music from the bookshelf she had started working on. It was a slow piece, filled with lingering notes of both voice and piano. It was probably her favorite of the new songs she'd worked on, so far. She was enamored, so engrossed by the music, that she didn't notice the encroaching footsteps.

When she was finished, she was quickly thrown out of her post-performance bliss by the sound of lone, heavy applause. When she looked up, she saw Quinn standing in the doorway, a subtle look of awe plastered across her face, and tail acting as a metronome, swinging side to side to the beat of the recently ended song.

"You could make a living off of your voice, you know," Quinn commented, walking further into the room. "Travel the world and live off of the money villagers would throw at you just to hear you sing. You could end up performing for royalty. Well, royalty other than me."

"It's been a dream of mine for a long time," Rachel nodded, fidgeting with the piano.

Quinn stopped, "Then why don't you?"

Rachel got up from the piano bench, crossing her arms and moving about the room, all the while aware of the beast's eyes on her. She didn't know how good of an idea it was to tell Quinn that she was in cahoots with the woman who turned her into the creature she was now. Would it matter to Quinn if Rachel was there to help break the spell? Would Quinn knowing about her reason to be there help or hurt the process?

After she had taken too long to think, Quinn continued, "I just don't understand why you want to spend your time here. Not that I mind, I," she coughed, nervous. "I really enjoy your company, actually."

Rachel turned around to face Quinn, "I enjoy your company, too." And she did.

Rachel's urge to stay in the castle started to have more to do with Quinn specifically than anything to do with the curse. She argued with herself that it was a good thing; she'd work harder to help the beast if she liked her. She just had to remember to at least keep the spell in the back of her mind.

"Enough to stay in some decrepit castle when you could be making your dream a reality?"

"First of all, it's only _really_ decrepit looking on the outside," Rachel smiled. "Second of all, I'm still young. I have plenty of time to travel the world."

Quinn's face fell almost imperceptibly and her eyes shifted away from Rachel's, "Right."

After that, she left Rachel to let her continue her practice in peace. It was foolish of Quinn to think that Rachel's life would suddenly stop for her; ultimately, she knew that. Rachel never said how long she planned on staying, she realized. And she started to worry.

What if she left before the spell could be broken? They had already gotten so close, what if it was all for nothing? She stopped midstride and stared at the doors she hadn't passed through in years. A small, irrational part of Quinn couldn't help but think Rachel wouldn't mind staying if she were still human.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of wood against marble, and turned to see Jesse hopping down the hall.

"It's nice to see you didn't wreck the wing beyond repair," he commented as he vaguely surveyed the area.

"You haven't been down here, yet?"

"Of course not," Jesse scoffed. "Someone might have had the audacity to ask me to work. Just yesterday, one of the pots asked if I belonged in the kitchen. _If I belonged_. I told him I could be anywhere I damn well please. As soon as he realized who I was, he started tripping over himself trying to apologize."

Quinn always assumed things were easier for Jesse. He always had all the perks of being royalty, and none of the pressures. When they were kids, Jesse would always finish his lessons before her and get to play longer. There were many times in her life where Quinn thought things would have been better if she wasn't the firstborn. And perhaps that was true, but at least nobody ever forgot Quinn.

She smiled down at him, "When you're human again, it'll be easier for you to throw your weight around like old times."

"When I'm human again, I'm firing everybody."

Quinn scoffed, "Not if I have anything to say about it. I actually like these people. Plus, it's going to be a little hard to get new workers to come here."

He decided to move on, "So things are going well?"

Quinn's smile turned tight and too wide, "Couldn't be better."

Jesse clapped his hands together, "Wonderful! I'm finally at my wit's end with this body. I think it's the lack of hair."

"You want to talk hair?" Quinn grumbled.

Jesse held in a laugh as the two of them faded into a comfortable silence, backed only to the soft sounds of the piano down the hall.

"Don't tell anybody this, but I kind of like her," Jesse commented.

"So do I."

"She's really helped with the castle's morale. I haven't seen everything so put together since…well, since you tore everything apart."

Quinn once again focused on the double doors. Reaching up, she ran the pads of her paw across the heavy chains. "Not everything."

Jesse moved closer and saw the contemplative look on his sister's face, "You know, you've made some pretty big strides, recently. Maybe it's time to stop beating yourself up and unlock the library."

"Maybe," was all Quinn said.

Jesse nodded before hopping back down the hall, "Well, I just came by to tell you that Kurt managed to somehow track down the tailors. The dresses should be ready shortly."

She didn't bother to tear her eyes away from the doors, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

Quinn was surprised that she didn't notice the piano had stopped playing. Instead, it was a gentle tug at the fur on her arm that got her to notice Rachel standing next to her.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, her eyes bouncing between Quinn and the doors they stood in front of.

"Just…thinking."

Rachel slowly nodded, watching as Quinn continued to play with the chains around the handles of the doors. It wasn't until she realized that Quinn wasn't going to elaborate that she spoke again, "About what?"

"Opening the library," Quinn answered simply. She turned to face Rachel, and her eyebrows rose in confusion at Rachel's let down expression. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just," Rachel sighed, "expected something…bigger. Why did you lock up the library?"

"It hurt too much." At Rachel's look of confusion, the beast gave a sigh of her own, "This was my favorite room when I was human. I have so many memories of the books my mother read to me, of the time I spent hiding away in here after she died. If my servants ever needed me, they'd look for me here, first. After the curse, the room reminded me too much of what I lost, so I had it locked away." She turned back to look at the large padlock as a ghost of a smile started to appear on her face, "But I think it's time to open it up again."

Rachel was suddenly overcome with excitement. Perhaps this was the final step to breaking the curse! "So, what are you waiting for? Let's open the door! Is there a key, or-"

Rachel's quest for the key was cut short as Quinn gripped the heavy padlock in both hands and pulled until it broke free.

"Well, that works, too."

Quinn turned and gave her a smile, any embarrassment overshadowed by her excitement, as she tore away the chains before swinging the doors open.

The library nearly rivaled the music room in its beauty. The walls were a rich red like those in the dining room, and were lined with shelves upon shelves of books. There were a few tables made from pine scattered about the library, and next to nearly all of them was at least one large plush chair. On the back wall was a fireplace, larger and more intricately detailed than all the others Rachel had seen in the castle.

She refrained from giggling as Quinn practically ran to the closest bookshelf. Careful not to let her claws touch, she swept her hand across a row of books nestled on one of the shelves, wiping away what little dust was there. She pulled out a book at random and inspected it. It was a deep maroon with elegant golden trim running around the edges and up a spine that was just barely worn. She ran her paw reverently across the front cover before joyfully opening the book to a random page.

Then, she paused.

Quietly, she stared at the page. She watched as the letters of the words jumbled together and formed incomprehensible messages. Her brow slowly scrunched together in a mix of confusion and regret. There, printed on the page, were shapes to her, and nothing more. She had forgotten.

Every lesson she had. Every day she spent locked away in the library. It was all gone.

"Quinn? Do you…Do you know how to read?" Rachel asked timidly, not wanting to embarrass her.

"Of course I can read!" she snapped, throwing the book across the room and instantly regretting it. She trudged over to where the book had fallen and gently picked it back up, "I mean…I could. Before."

Rachel watched as Quinn walked back and placed the book where it belonged on the shelf.

"I guess it just…left, after a while." She refused to look at Rachel.

Rachel could see how much this was affecting Quinn, and she didn't know if she could help her more by giving her a hug or just standing still. Instead, she realized that all she could offer in that moment was a feeble apology and any support the beast wanted from her. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

Quinn tried to shrug it off, "Why are you sorry? You're not the one that was stupid enough to lock up the library."

"You aren't stupid."

"Aren't I? If I couldn't talk, there wouldn't be any difference between me and a common beast."

Quinn slumped against the bookshelf, letting it support most of her weight. Rachel couldn't stand to see her so sad. She wanted to help, and there was only one way she could think of. She only hoped that, with how far they've come, Quinn wouldn't take any offence to her suggestion.

"Quinn?" Rachel stepped closer, placing a comforting hand at the crook of her elbow, "I could help. If you'd like."

"How could you possibly help?" Her voice was rougher than usual, an effect of doing her best to hold back any raw emotion in her already vulnerable state.

Rachel removed her hand and started to fidget with her fingers, feeling a little nervous, "I could help you by guiding you through it, again. I could…teach you."

Quinn whipped around and bore down at the woman as anger started to bubble within her. "What, like some _child_!?"

"Quinn, please," she stepped back at the sight of the beast's ire, "I can see how much this means to you. It may seem like this is some lost cause, but you can get that knowledge back. And I want to help you do it, if you'll let me."

For a minute, Quinn said nothing as she tried to calm herself. Rachel was right, there was no denying that. But the Fabrays had always been a prideful lineage, and Quinn was no exception. Now, to be a fully grown adult and have to be re-taught how to read…it was unthinkable. Yet, in the end, it was something she had to accept, if she ever wanted to get that part of her back.

Quinn missed reading too much, and to be so close to that joy, only to have it ripped away from her, was torture. It hurt enough to swallow whatever bile had risen up and grunt out, "Where do we start?"

They started with something simple – or, something simple according to Rachel. Quinn stumbled over the very first word, but Rachel assured her that something like 'two' would be hard for anyone that hadn't read in a long time. There were times when she had to begrudgingly ask Rachel for help, but for the most part, Quinn had gotten the hang of things surprisingly quick. Rachel never realized until now, but she thought the raspy tone in Quinn's voice was rather soothing, and she often lost herself in it as the beast continued to read to her. Before they knew it, dusk had settled and they had finished the story of Juliet and her Romeo.

A pleased hum rumbled in Quinn's throat as she closed the book, "I'd forgotten just how much I enjoyed this."

"The book or the reading?" Rachel joked.

"Both, actually. But mostly the reading."

"Well, now you can rediscover your love for all the other books. You're welcome, by the way." Rachel gave her a warm smile before getting up out of her chair and making to leave the room.

"Wait," Quinn called out, rather loudly. Surprised, Rachel turned back around, and Quinn gave her a slightly self-conscious smile. "Thank you, Rachel. But do you mind doing me one more thing?"

"I suppose."

The beast's smile grew, "I recently found out that I enjoy an audience when I read. I don't suppose you'd know anyone that would like to sit with me and listen?"

"Me," Rachel replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. She blushed. "I mean, not particularly. But I believe it would be best for me to sit with you. In case you need any more help."

"That would be wonderful."


	13. Chapter 12

So, for some reason, those little horizontal lines won't stay on the document, this chapter, which is incredibly annoying. And no matter what I try to do, I just can't seem to fix it. Just a heads up, if there's a larger space than usual between paragraphs, that would be the pagebreak.

* * *

Rachel didn't understand it. She had spent at least a month in the castle, helping Quinn as much as she could, leading her back to her human life. Still, nothing changed.

Well, of course, things _changed_. Quinn was…sweet, now. She was caring and gentle when she needed to be. She made Rachel laugh, and sometimes she made Rachel blush. Like right now, as she sat in her bed in the middle of the night, thinking of Quinn and completely unable to sleep.

She angrily threw her head back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. She knew herself well enough to have a good idea about what was happening. The quickening of her heartbeat whenever Quinn offered her her hand, or even just _looked_ at her. The rush of blood to her face whenever Quinn complimented her. She was, without a doubt, falling for the beast.

It was a bit…alarming.

Being the daughter of a man who fell in love with another man, the fact that Quinn was female bore no problem to Rachel. The fact that Quinn was a royal, the fact that she didn't know exactly how Quinn felt about her, and the fact that, by and large, Quinn was still a talking animal – those were things that proved to be slightly problematic.

It was far too late for Rachel to try and figure everything out. She would just have to get some rest, and hopefully things would become clearer in the morning.

* * *

Things did not, in fact, become clearer in the morning.

Rachel decided that it would be of no use to change her method of helping Quinn, since it already showed so much progress. As for her other problem, she decided to simply ignore it, for now. It was a plan that proved nearly impossible when she entered the dining room and saw Quinn staring out the window at the winter's first blanket of snow, tail wagging in delight.

She took a seat closest to the one at the head of the table and watched as Quinn giddily took in the falling snow, still unaware of Rachel's presence.

"Are you a fan of the snow?" Rachel asked, stifling her laughter as Quinn nearly jumped and swiftly turned in her chair to face her.

She cleared her throat, slightly flustered at being caught off guard, "Yes. Winter's always been my favorite season."

"My birthday is in the winter," Rachel commented as Ms. Jones and Kurt rolled in with their breakfast.

"Oh, well isn't that lovely! We should do something," Kurt said as he set down Quinn's meal. He gave her a look that neither Quinn nor Rachel missed, "Shouldn't we, your majesty?"

Quinn nodded easily, "Of course. About when is it, Rachel?"

"In two days, I think," she responded sheepishly.

"You think?" Ms. Jones asked after she finished pouring their tea.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what the date is, today."

"It's the 17th."

"Oh…then it's tomorrow, actually."

Things went quiet long enough for Rachel to feel the need to try and backtrack the conversation, "You don't need to do anything for me, really. It was a lovely thought, but I don't want to be a burden."

"Nonsense," Ms. Jones shushed her. "I'm sure Miss can think of something."

Before Quinn had the chance to protest, if she wanted to, Ms. Jones and Kurt both hopped back onto the rolling cart and sped off into the kitchen. She huffed in the direction they left and turned to see Rachel watching her, eyes bright and slightly hopeful.

"Is there anything you'd like to do, today?" Quinn smiled as Rachel practically bounced in her seat and then settled enough to try and think of what she wanted to do.

There was always the option to spend her day in the music room. But that was too…ordinary. She liked the idea of having Quinn read to her, but she felt like that was too strange to ask for. The only other thing she could think of that she wanted was to see Quinn as ecstatic as she was before Rachel walked into the dining room.

"Maybe we could go outside, today?"

Even though Quinn kept her face controlled, Rachel saw her ears perk up just slightly. "If that's what you want to do."

"It is," Rachel assured with a smile. "Winter happens to be my favorite season, too."

* * *

A delightfully frigid chill ran through Rachel as the two of them stepped into the outside world. She tightened the scarf that wound around her neck. With measured movements, she made light steps through the snow, enjoying the pleasant sound of crunching beneath her feet. She turned to speak to Quinn, but stopped when she noticed that the beast hadn't moved from her spot since they left the castle.

Rachel moved closer, slowly, trying not to disturb Quinn as she watched the flakes glide to the ground with the rest of their kind, a small twinkle in her eye. She held out one of her paws and let it collect the specks of white before they melted away into her fur. When she caught Rachel's eyes on her, she would have flushed, had she any skin to show.

"It's been a while since I've been out in the snow," she explained. "This is the second time in a while that I've been outside at all."

"Then we should make the most of it."

Rachel held out her hand for Quinn to take, and she did so happily. They started by walking around the garden, which wasn't much to look at in the winter, but still beautiful when shrouded with snow. All of the surrounding area looked much better when the ruin of the castle was covered. Rachel felt she saw a glimpse of what the land's beauty once held. The two walked all the way around the castle, enjoying the scenery and the company they shared.

It was when they stopped to rest, somewhere near the back of the castle, that a mischievous thought crossed Rachel's mind. She made to crouch, and when she knew Quinn wasn't looking, scooped up a sizeable portion of snow. Her bare hands stung with the cold, but she decided it would be worth it.

Quinn watched as the crows hopped about and played in the snowfall, sliding around and stretching out their wings. She thought it was strange that they only seemed to move around as soon as they caught her staring. She didn't have much time to wonder why, though, as a lump of snow hit her shoulder with a thwack.

She turned around, ears pinned to the back of her head, and spied Rachel running to take cover behind a fountain, laughing all the way. With an almost menacing smile, she accepted the unspoken challenge, and made her own snowball. There was giddiness inside her that she hadn't experienced since she was a child, and she reveled in it as she almost clumsily trampled through the snow, her competitive streak rising within her.

When she had a good enough eye on Rachel, she lobbed her ball and watched as it successfully landed, hitting her where her heavy cloak didn't cover.

"Lucky shot!" Rachel called out, nearly cackling in delight. Quinn didn't bother responding as she made another, larger snowball.

From the dining room, Kurt, Ms. Jones, Jesse, and Brittany watched through the window as Rachel barely dodged Quinn's ball and threw another one of her own, this time not even hitting her.

"How much time do we have left?" Kurt wondered.

Jesse smiled, "Enough."

Rachel made another ball as quickly as she could, this time running closer before throwing it at the beast. When she missed again, she went with her next idea and decided to just tackle Quinn. She didn't know if she actually hit her hard enough, or if Quinn was just playing along, but they went down fast as soon as Rachel made contact.

They laughed together on the ground, and Rachel blushed as she felt Quinn's tail brush against her leg every time it wagged. Maybe things were going to be a little more difficult than simply ignoring her emotions. She was never one to ignore them, anyway, so why would she start now? Yes, she had feelings for what most would see as an animal, but it was more complicated than that. And if everything went according to plan, Quinn wouldn't be like that for much longer. And the way Quinn would talk to her, sometimes the way she would look at her…it gave Rachel hope that this wasn't entirely one-sided.

"Getting cold?" Quinn asked, noticing the reddening in Rachel's cheeks. Even she was getting a little chilly, lying out in the snow.

Rachel just nodded, not quite trusting she knew what would come out of her mouth. It wasn't a lie, necessarily. Aside from the warmth in her cheeks, she was starting to feel the bitterness of the cold.

Quinn nudged Rachel off of her and then helped her up. She shook off the snow that stuck to her back before offering Rachel her paw, which she took almost too eagerly. Their pace was quick as they walked back to the castle's entrance, both hoping to soon find some warmth.

* * *

On the cushy carpeted floor of the parlor, they sat by the lit fireplace. Rachel and Quinn watched the flame dance as they snuggled into their shared large woolen blanket, both very aware of the other's closeness.

"I've had a wonderful time here, so far," Rachel unconsciously moved closer, seeking the warmth from Quinn's body more than that of the fireplace. "I think that's mostly to do with you."

"I find that hard to believe," Quinn replied, though her heart skipped a beat at the comment.

"Well," Rachel paused, "it's also to do with the rest of the company. And I do like living in a castle."

"Really? I don't think it's all that interesting. Of course, I've lived here all my life."

Rachel nodded, smiling as she pinched at a corner of the blanket, "It's always been a dream of mine, to live like royalty. The elegant gowns, fancy balls…" she sighed, "people not always judging you. Or, at least people not having the courage to tell you that they're judging you."

"It's really not all that it's cracked up to be," Quinn commented reservedly. She kept her gaze pinned to the fireplace, even though she felt Rachel's eyes on her.

"Did you not like it?"

Before Quinn had the chance to respond, Ms. Jones came rolling in on her trusty cart.

"Can I offer either of you some tea?" she asked, two cups at the ready.

Feeling a little too exposed, Quinn shook her head and shrugged off her side of the blanket. With a small frown, Rachel watched as Quinn got up to leave without passing a second glance at Rachel.

Before she fully passed the teapot, she leaned down to quietly whisper, "Next time you see Kurt, tell him I thought of what we can do with the gowns he ordered."

The two looked on as Quinn left the room without another word. Ms. Jones rolled closer to Rachel, pouring her a cup.

"It's chamomile, it'll help you relax."

Rachel smiled at her in thanks, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Ms. Jones noticed, and she sighed. "That woman can get on your nerves sometimes, can't she?" she half joked.

When that didn't get a response, she frowned and carefully nudged the teacup closer to Rachel, silently bidding her to take it. When she did, Ms. Jones tried to not too obviously revel in her self-proclaimed victory.

She fiddled with the cup before taking a sip. The tea replenished a small amount of warmth inside her that had dissipated since Quinn left her side without a word.

"Do you think she finds me off-putting?" Rachel asked quietly as she further buried herself into the blanket. "That tends to be a common reaction I get from people…"

Seeing an opportunity, the teapot jumped. "I have it on good authority that she's quite fond of you," she nearly sang, a hint of a smile playing on her porcelain face.

Gleefully, she watched from the corner of her eye as Rachel perked up and used her free hand to anxiously tug at the blanket.

"Really?" she asked, trying her best to not sound at all affected by this news.

"Oh, yes. She's said so herself," Ms. Jones nodded, then paused. "Well, not to me, personally. But everything gets around to me, eventually."

Rachel continued to drink her tea in semi-content silence, the chamomile quickly taking effect on her. When it was finished, she stifled a yawn and rested the cup back onto the rolling cart. She shimmied herself out of the giant blanket, not really sure what to do with it, and gave Ms. Jones a genuine smile.

"Thank you for the tea, Ms. Jones."

She waved her off, "It's my job. Now, why don't you go get some rest? I have a feeling that it's going to be a busy day, tomorrow."

As Rachel left for her room, Ms. Jones set off in search of Kurt.

* * *

In the royal library, Quinn leafed through a book pulled at random, not really focusing on the words printed across the pages.

Did she like being a princess? It certainly had its perks, Quinn couldn't deny that. Yet the title also held a power that drowned her, and helped her live a life that she was ultimately punished for. While her people might not have had the courage to show their ill will towards her, as Rachel said, they also never had the courage to come near her. Her parents held a power that Quinn could use to get whatever she wanted when she was young, but her father was a cold man who only ever talked to her about her future as ruler of the kingdom, and her mother barely ever had time for her. She was forced on "play dates," and then later "meetings," as she and the royal children from other kingdoms grew older. And now, she was being forced to find someone – anyone – that could love her.

She had to wonder, why was she fighting so hard to return to a life she resented?

More than anything, she just wanted to be treated like a normal person for once in her life. Not a princess, not a monster, but a woman. It didn't surprise Quinn in the least that she'd only ever felt like that around Rachel. And maybe that's why she was fighting. Not for the curse, but for Rachel.

She closed the book with a dull thump before sliding it back into its hiding spot. It was time, she finally decided, before closing up the library for the night. Tomorrow was the day.


	14. Chapter 13

Gosh, there are so many new followers and favorites, and a few more reviews. Thanks, everybody! Though, I regret to inform you that this is the last finished chapter I have of this story, and while I'm currently working on the next chapter, I'm afraid this might be the last of the weekly updates. Okay, okay, let's get going.

* * *

It took weeks of not seeing Rachel to make Finn think that something was off. At first, he thought she was doing one of her "woman things" – where she would avoid him for days at a time, then threaten him whenever he found where she was hiding out. But when he heard that a few other people hadn't noticed her around town either, Finn grew suspicious. He'd checked the book store and the tavern, but there was still no sign of Rachel. Eventually, he gave up and called a meeting in his cabin near the woods.

Blaine sat on one of Finn's handmade wooden chairs, trying as best as he could to find some comfort in the seat. His eyes continuously switched from the pacing man before him to the fresh wolfskin rug Finn's boots repeatedly trampled on as he went from one end of the cabin to the other. He shuddered every time his eyes landed on those of the rug. He never liked hunting. He didn't like a lot of things Finn did (especially his shoddy attempts at carpentry), but a friend was a friend, and he was the closest thing Blaine ever had to one.

"Maybe she got lost in the woods, again," Blaine supplied.

"Don't you think I would have found her by now?" Finn asked.

Blaine slumped in his seat. There went his chance at doing something other than watching Finn pace.

"Well…maybe she just decided to stay home for a while. That's what I do, sometimes, after a particularly trying day." It's what he'd like to do, right now. Just go home and leave Finn to his strange and newfound obsession.

Finn thought for a moment, stalling in his path before turning to Blaine, "Then maybe I should stop by the cottage." He smiled and Blaine tried to shake off the weird feeling he got.

* * *

As usual on her birthday, Rachel had an electric buzz of happiness course through her the moment she woke up. She sprung out of bed before greeting Tina with a bubbly, "Good morning!"

Tina greeted her with a far sleepier reply before opening up her doors and letting Rachel pick her outfit for the day. From the wardrobe, she picked one of her favorite dresses – a simple sleeveless blue dress over a white blouse and matching apron. There wasn't much need for the apron, but Rachel thought it tied the outfit together.

All the while, her talk with Ms. Jones the night before still played freshly in her mind, like a broken record she'd grown too fond of to replace. A similar fondness, Rachel giddily thought as she tightened the bow of her apron, that Quinn apparently held for her. And now, on her birthday, Rachel couldn't think of a better time to reveal her own feelings to Quinn.

She nearly blew down the door in a whirlwind of energy before racing down to the dining room. She smiled at the few servants she passed by, and while they noticed her, most only gave a stiff smile in return. She shrugged it off, deciding some odd behavior from the servants wasn't going to put a damper on her day.

In her head, Rachel shuffled through things to say and topics to cover with Quinn during breakfast. She decided it was far too early to try to talk about their respective feelings for each other. Quinn never was very coherent in the mornings.

She skipped through the entrance of the dining room, expectant grin covering half of her face, only to find…nothing. No servant, no dish, and no beast. She was used to being the first person there, but she had spent so much time primping herself during this particular morning that she was sure the others would be there, by then. So, she sat at her usual spot, mood slightly shifted, and she waited.

And waited.

It wasn't until much later that Jesse hopped through the door, slightly out of breath. When he caught sight of an exasperated Rachel sitting at the table, he quickly composed himself and made his way to her. Before he could give any explanations or excuses, Rachel firmly crossed her arms and gave him a look that nearly matched Quinn's when she was annoyed. If he hadn't lived with his sister for so long, he might have been a little worried.

"Where is everyone?" Though her body language made her seem angry, her voice came out as more of an audible pout.

Jesse gave her a placating smile, "I'm terribly sorry, but breakfast will be a little late, today. Quinn's tied up, at the moment." It was an almost too literal assessment.

The grandfather clock had just come from the master bathroom, where everyone else had gathered in an attempt to help Quinn get accustomed to her new dress. Out of fear of being crushed by his sister's giant form floundering about the room – and annoyance from a frantic Kurt screeching at the beast to not damage the dress – Jesse had quickly said something about checking on Rachel and rushed out.

He hopped toward the kitchen, ready to give the cooks Quinn's order for the day. However, Rachel wasn't quite satisfied with his explanation.

"Tied up with what? Couldn't it have waited tomorrow, or even later today? Does she remember it's my birthday?"

Jesse pretended not to hear her questions as he entered the Kitchen.

* * *

It seemed that Quinn _did_ remember Rachel's birthday, as she greeted her with a rather impersonal 'Happy birthday' when she finally arrived for breakfast. They seemed to be back at the beginning of Rachel's stay, as Quinn refrained from making any conversation; only giving brief replies whenever Rachel said anything. But Quinn had ordered the cooks to prepare Rachel's favorite dish, so she supposed that made up for something.

At the end of the meal, Quinn stood from her chair and looked to Rachel. When she saw the confusion and barely masked hurt on her face, she had to force herself to not cave or look away.

"There are a few things I need to work on. I hope you understand," she managed to force out, and turned away before she could see Rachel's reaction.

"No, of course," Rachel quietly said to the beast's retreating form.

She stayed seated in her chair, possibly for too long, as she tried to figure out _why_. Why was Quinn acting so strange, today? Why couldn't she stand to look at Rachel all breakfast? And why couldn't whatever she's been busy with all morning wait for a day that wasn't as important as this one?

Rachel thought her birthday was going to be very different than how it started out. That it was going to be a day spent with her favorite person in the castle, doing whatever it was she desired, and then, hopefully, an emotional reveal of shared feelings topped off with a gentle and shy kiss goodnight (on the cheek, of course, to be careful of getting cut by sharp fangs). But with the way Quinn was acting now, it was clear that her dream day would be far from reality.

It might have felt better if Quinn had done a complete turnabout. Instead of her original hot-headedness, Quinn just seemed distant, at best. It was like she felt nothing at all for Rachel; like she was just some stranger.

She suddenly thought herself foolish to trust in the word of the head of the castle's gossip.

Finally, she rose from her dining room chair, and raced to her room, hoping that she wouldn't be stopped by any of the servants. She didn't bother saying a word to Tina when she got there. Instead, she chose to pretend that she was alone, and the wardrobe watched as the obviously upset woman trudged over to her bed and lay down. It was the first time in a few days that Tina wished Rachel would talk to her.

* * *

It became apparent to Rachel that she had fallen asleep when she opened her eyes from her last blink and noticed it was already midday. She rubbed at her red and scratchy eyes, and got out of bed before stretching tall. When she turned around, she saw the wardrobe looking at her with a small, sad smile.

"Are you okay?" Tina asked, and Rachel just nodded. She was still hurt and confused, and she didn't want to talk about it, but the nap had helped her feel a little better.

"Well, that's good. You should be well-rested for tonight."

Rachel quirked her head, "What's happening tonight?"

Tina faltered, silently cursing herself. "I…wouldn't know. I just assumed there was _something_ happening tonight, there usually is. This castle's just nonstop, sometimes!" She gave a nervous laugh, and sighed in relief when a knock on the door came before Rachel could question her strange behavior.

Rachel shrugged and walked to the room's entrance. When she opened the door, a tall coat rack that she'd never seen before stood on the other side. On one of its hooks, it held one of the most beautiful dresses Rachel had ever seen. It was a solid blush pink that carried all the way down to the floor – or at least it would if she were wearing it – and had a small matching sash tied around it with a neat bow on the back.

"Her highness has requested that you meet her in the ballroom, tonight. Wear this." The coat rack handed Rachel the dress, and then turned around and marched back to wherever it had come from.

In a stunned silence, Rachel held the dress against her figure. She spun to face the mirror and admired her reflection. The dress actually looked like it was made for Rachel, and she could already tell that it would look beautiful on her.

"Would you look at that. I told you something always happens in the castle."

Rachel laughed.

* * *

Hiram hummed a simple tune as he came in from feeding the lone crow that hopped around in the field.

Though he still suffered a few coughing fits, he'd been feeling better than he had in weeks. It was as if all he needed was some rest to feel better. Hiram had always been a busybody, either always having an invention to create, or a spouse to tend to, or a daughter to worry over. But in the past few weeks, though he still worried quite a lot about his daughter, he'd taken some much needed time away from his workshop to relax.

And just because he now found himself in the cellar, surrounded by his inventions, doesn't mean he wasn't still resting. He just needed something to take his mind off of his daughter, and tinkering with some old machines was the only thing he could think of. Or, so he told himself.

Though his inventions could frustrate him beyond belief, he missed the sound of spluttering machinery and grinding metal – far too much to go another day without it. He was surprised at what so little time could do, as he surveyed the cellar and realized that he didn't remember what heap was scrap metal, and what heap was his latest projects. Maybe it was about time he started to reorganize the place. But for now, Hiram decided to just start from scratch as he pushed aside the crossbow that hadn't been touched since Rachel came home, and then pulled out a new length of drawing paper.

It took him a while to get past the brainstorming process, every once in a while zoning out and doodling things that only barely resembled Quinn and her servants. But once he got over that hurdle, there was no stopping his flow.

He was so immersed in his work that he didn't hear the solid rapping that came from the cottage door, then the door to the cellar, and once again at the cottage door. He didn't notice any of the world around him until he was startled by loud, angry banging at the door of his makeshift workshop. He hurried over to the door, almost tripping over his various supplies, and swung it open.

On the other side was Finn, his mouth set in an annoyed line. When he noticed the door had finally opened, he attempted to relax his features.

"Mr. Berry. Hiram, sir," he offered what he thought was a courteous smile, but just made him look ill. "I was looking for Rachel, is she around?"

He stalled, not knowing how to answer, or if the man would take a simple 'she's not here.' There was something about him that seemed off. Hiram didn't like it, and if Rachel even was home, he didn't think he'd let Finn around her like this.

When he didn't provide an answer fast enough for Finn, he was harshly pushed aside so Finn could enter the cellar. "Is she down here? Are you hiding her from me?"

Hiram was afraid. He eyed the crossbow from across the room, wishing he wasn't so far away.

"She's not down here, I swear." He gulped and attempted a short laugh, "Look, why don't we take a deep breath? I can sense some emotions are high-"

His shoulders were grabbed in a bruising grip, and Finn angrily bore down on him, "_Where is Rachel!?_"


	15. Chapter 14

Well, that didn't take as long as I thought. :P Also, again, the page breakers aren't showing up for me, but maybe that's just my computer being stupid.

* * *

Night had finally fallen, and Rachel once again stood in front of her mirror, twirling around in her simple yet elegant ball gown. She was anxious and eager and worried; a tense ball settled in her stomach. Her hands kept reaching to smooth out various invisible wrinkles and imperfections the dress had, while its comfortably snug fit was blamed for constricting her breath.

This situation had thrown her for a loop, and she'd been confused about what to do since she'd been given the dress. Could this mean that Ms. Jones was right all along? Did Quinn feel something for her, and earlier today was just a simple fluke? If that were so, it was obvious to Rachel that tonight would be the perfect time to come forth with her feelings. But she had to wait it out, first. Test the waters to see what, exactly, she was dealing with.

She gave Tina a shaky wave goodbye, and slowly started to make her trek to the ballroom. Her steps echoed through the hallway, and the castle seemed to be all too quiet. At that time of night, Rachel would find at least one or two servants lingering in the halls. Now, she was the only one, and though she felt safe inside those walls, she had to admit that it was a little unnerving.

A few feet away from the staircase that led down to the ballroom, Rachel started to hear rustlings and murmurings. Before anything else, she saw Quinn, waiting by the loft, trying her best not to fidget, and actually wearing clothes. It was a look that made Rachel smile as she snuck up on the beast, playfully tugging at the back of her dress.

She spun around, startled, only to relax when she found Rachel softly smiling up at her. She was about to say something, but was completely taken aback when she finally looked down enough to see the dress on Rachel. Kurt and the tailors had done a wonderful job, and Quinn was starting to feel even more self-conscious about her outfit than she already was.

"I was starting to wonder if you would actually show up," Quinn chuckled waveringly as she barely made eye contact with the woman, her paws gently tugging at her uncomfortable dress.

It was a beautiful sky blue that contrasted wonderfully with Rachel's pink. It was the same make as Rachel's, except missing the sash and bow. And it looked remarkably sweet on Quinn.

"You upset me, today," Rachel said, and Quinn's face fell. "I was beginning to think you hated me."

"I could never hate you," Quinn was almost vehement in her assurance, making Rachel jump a little. Her ears swiveled downward in a mix of apology and embarrassment, and Rachel couldn't help but think of it as cute.

"I just don't understand what happened, this morning. It was like you couldn't stand being around me."

"I couldn't," Quinn replied before fully thinking it through. When she saw the wounded expression cross Rachel's face, she rushed to explain, "What I meant is, it was hard being around you when I was trying to keep this a secret." She waved behind her, and that's when Rachel finally looked down at the ballroom and discovered what all that noise was.

Nearly all of the servants she had ever seen in the castle were at the back of the ballroom, accompanied with the instruments that had resided in the music room. Some instruments were so large, they had to be assigned to two or more of the servants, who were now fiddling with them in an attempt to get further acquainted to the instruments' workings. She had no idea how they could've moved them there, and assumed Quinn had to do most, if not all, of the heavy lifting. Kurt looked up from the glockenspiel he stood behind, and grinned and waved at Rachel like a proud child when he saw her watching.

Rachel and Quinn stood quietly, not quite facing each other; both a little scared of whatever was to happen next. And a beautiful, slow symphony started to play.

Quinn rolled her eyes at herself. She'd never felt so…_childish_, like a giant lovesick puppy. She started to laugh when she realized that was exactly what she was, and when Rachel looked up at her questioningly, she sighed and decided to take that first leap.

She looked into Rachel's eyes, and Rachel's breath caught in her throat at what she saw in the beast's swirling hazel. "Would you care to dance with me?"

She held out her paw, and Rachel, blushing, gave Quinn her hand. They walked together down the winding staircase, and kept going until they reached the middle of the dance floor. They paused, not knowing how to continue. From the back, Jesse cleared his throat loudly, and Quinn took the look on his face as a cue to lead.

It was awkward, at first, and a little disjointed. Quinn hadn't danced in ages, and she'd never led, before. But when Rachel moved her hand up Quinn's arm – low enough to still be comfortable – a calmness rose in her, and she started to move more with the music.

"Has anyone ever told you that you dance divinely?" Quinn asked after a while.

"No, actually. I've never really danced with anyone except my father. I wasn't really considered to be a catch in the village."

Quinn clicked her tongue, "Well, that's a shame."

"And why is that?" Rachel questioned, a smile appearing on her face as her eyebrows rose in question.

"Because they have no idea what they're missing." Before Rachel could reply, Quinn slid her paw to gently grasp at her waist, before twirling the both of them around the dance floor until Rachel's head spun and her heart danced with them.

* * *

They had laughed until their lungs gave in, and danced until their legs gave out; all accompanied with their very own soundtrack of surprisingly well-played waltzes. When the last song ended, they slowed their movements until they came to a halt. They sighed and smiled; either blushed or flicked their tail to and fro. Neither Rachel nor Quinn had ever felt so magnificent and carefree in their lives as they did that night. It was a night that Rachel never wanted to forget, and never wanted to end; and luckily for her, Quinn's plans weren't quite finished.

Quinn coughed, her throat suddenly dry with the realization that the final step now had to be put into motion. Still, her outside remained perfectly calm and graceful as she reached for Rachel's hand.

"I hope you're not ready to turn in, just yet," she smiled.

"I suppose it depends on what you have planned," Rachel hedged, though she was almost eager to accept any suggestion Quinn would make.

"There's something I need to talk to you about…in _private_," she glared at the four main servants, who went from obviously spying on the conversation to obsessively inspecting their instruments.

Rachel giggled at their behavior. She felt airy, light. There was a strange tingling going through her body, like nothing she'd ever felt before. It put her on edge, made her uncomfortable, but she shrugged it off. Perhaps she exerted herself with all the dancing, and her body was just trying to tell her it was tired. She still wasn't ready to end this night, especially not after what Quinn had said.

"We could go somewhere else, if they bother you that much," she teased, and Quinn gave an audible _hmph_ before relaxing.

"That's actually a better idea."

She led Rachel up staircases and through winding hallways until they finally stopped at the end of the West Wing: Quinn's chambers. Rachel's curiosity piqued as she watched Quinn gawkily open the doors and step aside for the woman to enter first.

The room, much like the rest of the wing, had been renovated since Rachel last stepped through the doors. It was hardly recognizable, with everything salvageable having been repaired, and everything demolished having been replaced. One thing that drew her attention the most was the disappearance of the large painting that used to hang on the wall.

She watched as Quinn entered further into the room, her eyes seemed to focus solely on the old stand that housed the gardenia. There were only two petals left, just barely hanging on to the gardenia's stem, and Rachel wondered why Quinn revered it so. She reached out, as if she was about to grab the flower that rested on the table, but then brought her hand back and turned to face Rachel.

"Did I manage to fix your birthday?" Quinn asked, still trying to figure out how to bring her plan into fruition. A mild, unwarranted nervousness started to creep through her.

Rachel nodded, "It's quite possibly been the best birthday. I think that's mostly to do with you."

Quinn smiled, slow and easy. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's also to do with the rest of the company. And I've recently discovered just how much I love dancing in elegant gowns in fancy ballrooms," Rachel joked, smirking at the beast. Then, her smile turned soft as she looked into Quinn's gentle eyes. "But it's mostly to do with you."

Quinn opened her mouth to reply, but she noticed the faint sadness in Rachel's eyes, and the barely-there frown that started to mar her features. "But something's missing," she guessed.

Rachel nodded, "My dad." After she confessed, the tingle from earlier increased within her, and she tried to shake it off.

Mentioning her father had put a slight damper on the mood and Quinn's plan, but she could hardly blame the woman. And a brief digression wouldn't hinder her plans any. She reached back and felt for the enchanted mirror, finally grabbing it and offering it to Rachel.

"It's the best I can do, right now."

Rachel took the mirror with gratitude and asked it, just like last time, to show her her father. And the mirror flashed a shimmering green before fading away and revealing to her something she dreadfully wished it hadn't.

Hiram was stuck in Finn's inescapable grip, his fearful eyes boring into the taller man's crazed ones.

Rachel couldn't bear to look at the scene another second. She had to do something. She looked pleadingly to Quinn, who had watched along with her, silently asking her what she was supposed to do, now. Quinn, also shocked, couldn't think of anything to say. A dark, selfish part in the back of her mind thought she shouldn't have given Rachel the mirror. She shook that away, and her face set in determination.

"Hurry, there might not be much time." She ran to one of the wardrobes in the room and pulled out a heavy shawl, giving it to the woman. "Take this with you; it's probably freezing out there."

Rachel took the shawl, but her feet would not move. Despite everything, her mind was still foolishly stuck on the fact that she'd be leaving before getting Quinn back to her human form. And she still didn't know what Quinn wanted to talk to her about. And with her brain very much still in shock, she told Quinn exactly that.

Surprised, Quinn gave her a soft yet cajoling smile, "Protect your father. I'll be here when you return."

This finally got Rachel to move. "I'll come back, I promise!" she shouted over her shoulder as she raced out of the room. She ran past the servants spying just outside of Quinn's door. As they watched her go, Kurt put his head in his hand.

"Damn it, not again," he mumbled.

* * *

Quinn closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and groaned loudly when she heard the four barge into the room.

"What did you do!?" Ms. Jones practically boiled over. "We were so close!"

"I did nothing!" Quinn roared back. "Her father's in trouble! What was I supposed to do, tell her she couldn't leave? I'm sure that would've solidified any potential we have together."

Kurt's eyes caught the sickly looking gardenia, "How much time do we have left?"

"She's probably going to come right back-"

"_How much?_" he interrupted the beast.

Quinn sighed, watching as another petal fell from the flower, "Two days."

"Why didn't you remind us it was going to be your birthday, soon?" Brittany chirpily queried, completely missing the point.

"I figured you would all remember it, considering its implications."

Jesse closed his eyes and breathed, knowing any more anger thrown at Quinn wouldn't get them any closer to where they wanted. "But what about the curse?"

"I don't _care_ about the curse, anymore. I care about _her_." The words almost startled her, as much as the others, as they left her mouth. But it was a thought that she'd had for a while, just not quite realized until just then.

In spite of everything, he smiled. "Well, at least that takes care of your half."

Kurt visibly softened, but he still pressed on, "But what about those of us that still care about the curse, Quinn? It might be fine for you to live the rest of your life in your body, but what about us? We don't even have hands, and most of us are barely a foot tall."

"She said she's coming back," Quinn said, turning away to look out at the night sky. "I believe her."

Ms. Jones frowned, "Let's just hope she comes back in time."


	16. Chapter 15

So, sorry that this took so long. To make up for it, it's the longest chapter in this thing. But, it's also the last chapter. There's still an epilogue I need to write (that's actually half-written, already), but after that, we all have to say goodbye to this story. Thanks for waiting and sticking with me. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it (...most of the time). Now, onto the story.

* * *

Her legs pumped hard and fast as her breaths came out ragged. She ran faster than any wolf could catch her, the look of her father's frightened face stuck in the foreground of her mind, while Quinn's lonesome howl played quietly in the back. It was a promise she intended to keep when she said she'd come back. But considering the situation, she didn't exactly know when.

* * *

"I'm going to ask you one more time, old man. Where is she?" Finn's grip unconsciously tightened around the other man's shoulders.

Hiram couldn't hold it off, any longer, and he sighed. If Finn could find the castle, the beast would probably have a better chance holding her own in a fight with the tall man than he did. Maybe it was a silly thought, but she could keep Rachel safe.

"All right! I'll-I'll tell you where she is." Pleased, Finn let him go, and Hiram massaged at his tender shoulders. "She's…She's back at the castle. With the creature I told you about in the tavern."

He watched with apprehension as Finn stared at him, stony-eyed.

"I'm through with dealing with your games and delusions, Hiram," he said, his voice increasing in volume.

He drew up his large hand, and was about to come down when Rachel burst through the cellar door.

"Don't you dare touch him!" she shouted, pushing her way in front of her father without a single thought.

He faltered, obviously confused, brain lagging behind on the new happenings. His brow furrowed but his hand held strong, and he briefly debated if he should carry out his plans for the old man for obviously lying to him, or turn his sights to Rachel. Rachel's breath hitched, clenched in her throat as she stared up at Finn, sending him a silent plea she hoped he could decipher. From behind her, Hiram watched the exchange, far more worried now than he was when he was alone with the monstrous man.

Finally, Finn dropped his arm back to his side, his hand slapping his thigh with a dull thwack.

"Where have you been?" His tone was accusatory, as fiery as his angered gaze as he looked down his nose at Rachel.

Rachel replied, "You may think my father a lot of things, but he is no liar."

Finn scoffed, "So you're trying to tell me that not only does this…_mighty beast_ exist, but you've been living with it?"

As they talked, Hiram quietly inched closer and closer to where his crossbow lay, hoping against hope that he could reach it before Finn found out. Or before he did anything else stupid.

"It's true!" Rachel petulantly stomped her foot, for a second forgetting why they were here. She never liked it when somebody doubted her.

Suddenly, she remembered the small weight in her hand. She held the mirror up to her face, and to her reflection, she commanded, "Show me Quinn."

Like always, the mirror exploded in a flash of green, before fading away and revealing to her the beast. Quinn paced back and forth on all fours – something that she hadn't done for a long time – stopping every once in a while to look out the window. Her four friends scattered about the room, all looking upon her with either sadness or irritation. A pang struck inside Rachel's chest as she watched, but then remembered why she had called upon the mirror in the first place, and turned the scene to Finn.

"There's your proof," she said as Finn stared at the mirror. His face was awash with terror as he witnessed the unlikely creature.

"Why," he tried before swallowing and starting again, "Why would you choose to spend your time with…with that _thing_?"

Rachel was offended, for both Quinn and herself. She angrily pulled the mirror back, "Quinn happens to be a very lovely woman, _far lovelier_ than you, and anybody would be grateful to get to spend time with her and know her like I do!"

Hiram paused, mid-crouch as he was about to grab the crossbow, and raised his eyebrows at his daughter.

Bewildered, Finn laughed, "What, you actually like this monster?"

"I more than like her," Rachel huffed, and lightly gasped when she realized what she said.

Hiram shot up, crossbow forgotten in a hand now laying limp at his side, "You what?"

Finn's brain was, yet again, lagging behind. Rachel watched in dark anticipation as Finn's face slowly twisted into a sneer and its color turned into a rosy pink.

"You would rather lie with that hideous freak than be with me!?" he shouted, and she blushed.

Finn violently shoved Rachel out of the way, and stormed towards Hiram. He ripped the crossbow out of the older man's hand, silently daring him to try and stop his rampage.

Rachel hesitantly called out, "Finn, what are you doing?" But, of course, Finn ignored her.

He stalked his way towards her, not saying a word. He simply stared down at her, uncomfortably close, until he reached down and ripped the mirror – still reflecting the vision of the beast – from Rachel's hand.

He trudged over to the door before turning around and grimacing at the other two in the room, "Of course you would choose that thing over me. You're a freak just like your father. You belong together; a family of freaks. It's a shame you won't get to say goodbye."

Finn smirked before turning on his heels and slamming the door shut, barring it from the outside.

* * *

On his strong, black steed, Finn galloped into the town square, where many of the villagers milled about. They surrounded the man as he came to a stop; all wondering what was so urgent. With their commanded attention, Finn called out to them.

"Women and children, return to your homes! Grab your men! I'm going on a hunt, and I'll need all the help I can get."

Caught up in the excitement, the townspeople cheered. Nothing like this had happened since the mountain lion descended upon their poor town. However; one person, nearly hidden amidst the crowd, wasn't so excited.

Blaine easily slipped through the mass of villagers and met Finn at the front of the crowd. "Uhm," he hesitantly called out, suddenly wary of getting the other man's attention. "What, exactly, are we hunting?"

From atop his horse, Finn grinned. "We're hunting _this_," he held out the enchanted mirror, showing all the villagers Quinn's visage. All of them, including Blaine, gasped in horror at the monster before them.

"Are we just going to sit here and wait until this beast comes down to our village? Are we going to let what happened before, happen again?" Finn's voice rang out into the darkening sky, and from the crowd came cries of anger.

"Then get ready and follow me!"

In a silent battle cry, Finn raised the crossbow into the air, and the townspeople rejoiced with him. He galloped off in search of the castle, and the men of the crowd picked up whatever makeshift weapon they could find. Reluctantly, Blaine grabbed the torch that was handed to him, and joined the mob that followed their leader.

* * *

Like a caged animal, Rachel frantically paced from each corner of the room, trying her best to think of a way to get out. Hiram silently watched from his workbench as Rachel infrequently stumbled over the metal scraps lying about the room. He sighed and started scanning his work area. Perhaps there was something he'd invented and forgotten that could help with their escape.

Eventually, Rachel spotted a small window near the top of the room. She hurried to it, and jumped before her reasoning could catch up with her. Despite the situation, Hiram couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his small daughter not even coming close to reaching the window.

Rachel huffed, "I'm glad that you're enjoying yourself."

Trying to push back his humor, Hiram stood and made his way over to the woman, putting calming hands on her shoulders. "We're not going to get out of here any faster if we overreact to everything. I know we're certainly not the spokespeople for calm, level-headedness, but that's what we need, right now."

Nodding, Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep, soothing breath. When she opened her eyes again, her father saw the tears threatening to escape.

"I promised her I'd come back, Dad," her voice shook.

Hiram shushed her and pulled her in for a hug, rubbing consoling circles along her back. "We'll find a way."

It was then that a brief flash of light came from under the cellar door. Hiram watched with curious eyes as he let go of Rachel, so she could see what was happening. They heard a dull scratch at the door, followed by a quiet thud as something hit the ground. Before they reached the door, there was another flash of light, and by the time they opened the door to find the bar at their feet, not a person was in sight.

Their search for their savior was stopped by a caw that echoed out and broke the eerie quiet. When they looked up, they saw a lone crow flying in the direction of the castle. And they walked with it.

* * *

Jesse was the first person to notice the growing rabble outside.

"I think we might need to push aside the Rachel problem, for now," he haltingly spoke out to the others.

Quinn looked at her brother questioningly as the other servants followed his line of sight. From the large windows, they saw a small light growing greater and greater, and a mob of people growing louder and louder as they marched toward the castle, brandishing their torches and pitchforks.

"Oh, this isn't good," Ms. Jones said.

"Sort of an understatement," Kurt replied under his breath before turning to Quinn. "What do you want us to do?"

Quinn's eyes were stuck on the encroaching forms, her enhanced vision giving her a better look than her servants. She searched the mob, looking for any sign of Rachel. There was none, and she didn't know exactly how she felt about that. But when her eyes shot to the front of the group, she let out a low growl as fury filled her insides.

She remembered that lanky man in the too-short pants. And she clearly remembered the night the hunter took Rachel away from her. And when she saw the mirror – _her_ mirror, the mirror that Rachel left with – she almost broke through the windows to charge down at the man.

"Gather everyone you can find and hold them back," she ordered. "They're probably here for a reason, and I don't want to find out why. But make sure the man on the horse gets to me. I want to deal with him personally."

They all ran out to gather the other servants, while Quinn stayed back and watched the townspeople start to cross the bridge. Night had finally hit full force, and the bright stars glittered above the glowing torches. Sighing, her eyes slid over to the gardenia, where only one petal was holding strong.

One day. After dealing with whatever was outside, she'd have one more day. Of course, she hoped that Rachel would come back in time. And she hoped that _when_ Rachel came back, it was to a still very much alive Quinn. But more than anything, she just hoped that, wherever Rachel was, she was safe.

She gingerly removed her dress, hoping to keep it from getting any more ruined than it already was, thanks to her pacing. With it cleanly folded and stored away for now, along with the rest of the night's memories, Quinn prepared herself for war.

* * *

The black steed trotted up to the castle, a tingle of trepidation rattled in his neigh. Finn hefted himself off the horse and grabbed an offered torch before trying to clumsily tuck the mirror in his belt with two full hands.

"Do what you want to the castle," he shouted to the crowd behind him, trying to battle against the sudden pelting rain. "Just make sure the monster gets to me!"

With excited screams booming from the mass of bodies, they charged the castle. It didn't take long for them to bring the doors down, but when they entered, all they could do was stand, thrown, in the foyer of the silent and pristine looking castle.

"Well, it certainly doesn't_ look_ like a beast lives here," one of the townspeople muttered into the silence.

"We do try our best," came a reply seemingly out of nowhere.

That was when they attacked.

The villagers attacked more out of fear and confusion than out of their previous anger, as hundreds of inanimate objects around the castle started _moving_, and _talking_. The servants got to attack first in a surprise ambush, if not by actually hurting the men, then by giving at least a few of them heart attacks. They flew down staircases and out of doorways, picking men at random to fight. Ms. Jones sped from the dining room on her cart, her and her teacups filled with scalding tea and ready for anything. Jesse and Kurt stood side by side, surveying their army and calling out orders. And Brittany was in the thick of it, joyfully beating on the legs of any man that dared to go near her.

The villagers could hold their own, once they had time to assess the situation. Hard kicks and swings of axes easily did the trick when taking on some of the smaller furniture. A few wooden chairs already lay scattered around the floor.

Just on the outer edge of the battle, Finn managed to remain unscathed – or, out of the battle, entirely. He threw his torch into the crowd, which ended up hitting one of his own, and removed the enchanted mirror. He observed the beast's surroundings as Quinn sat much like a dog, and stared at the doors to her chambers. She was waiting for him, he knew, and a tremor of fear that he pretended didn't exist scampered down his spine. Again, Finn holstered the mirror, and he started to sneak his way around the ongoing brawl. His grip on the crossbow tightened when he came across a darkened hallway, and he started his search.

* * *

It had started to rain when they hit the middle of the path. Soaked and covered in mud and slush from the hurried journey, Rachel and Hiram eventually found themselves at one end of the bridge while they watched the men try to tear down the doors to the castle. Their crow guide swooped down and landed next to its friends, all of which seemed entirely unfazed about the happenings around them. Rachel took a deep breath and started to march the rest of the way to the castle before Hiram quickly grabbed her arm.

She tried to rip her arm out of his grip, "Dad, let go, I have to help her!"

"Rachel, honey," he said, sighing, "I understand. You might not think so, but I do. I know what love can do to a person." He smiled at his daughter, and she started to sniffle in reply, "And, well, if _she's_ your person, then I want you to be together. But as your father, I _can't_ let you go in that…mess. You've been here far longer than I have; is there a secret door or back entrance, or something?"

"No," Rachel replied sullenly. Then, she had a thought. "But I can make one."

Hiram let go of her arm and followed Rachel as she snuck towards the garden. Amidst the slush and rubble, Rachel watched and nearly cursed as the men finally broke down the door. Acting quickly, she grabbed a loose rock from the garden and ran to the other side of the castle, careful to not slip and fall on the way.

She stood, searching for life in the empty dining room through the large window, while she impatiently waited for her father to catch up. Soon, he did, holding his chest and breathing heavily.

"I may have gotten better, but I'm still an old man, Rachel," he half joked as he tried to catch his breath. "So, what are-"

He was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass as Rachel threw her rock through the window. A lesson about vandalism was on the tip of his tongue, but Hiram held back. As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures, and he would certainly label this situation as a desperate time.

He followed Rachel as she hopped through the broken window, stumbling exactly as she did when his feet hit the other side. He dusted off his shirt in a nervous habit and looked around the room. It was more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen, and he remarked that he finally understood why Rachel wanted to come back the first time.

She playfully rolled her eyes before shifting into a more serious mood. "You have to wait here," she said. "There's no telling what they'll do to you if they find you."

Hiram's eyebrows raised, "Okay, and what makes you think they won't end up coming in here?"

"That's a good point," Rachel paused. "Go home, I'd feel better if you were somewhere safe." She spun around and walked purposefully to the doorway, only stopping when Hiram's voice called out to her.

"I'm not leaving you here! And you're certainly not leaving until…well; apparently you don't want to leave. But, the point is, I'm not leaving you here by yourself, as long as there's a mob of angry people looking to kill your girlfriend and anyone who gets in their way."

Rachel blushed, but moved on. "Fine, if you're going to be stubborn about it," she ignored the humorous smile that flashed on her father's face, "then come with me. I have an idea."

Before heading toward the doorway again, Rachel quickly made her way to the fireplace. She picked up a fire iron that stood straight in its holder and handed it to Hiram.

"You're going to need this," she said before turning around and finally making her way out of the dining room.

* * *

From his spot on the side table, Kurt bent over and easily set another man's shirt on fire. He and the others – except for Brittany, who was too busy giving the villagers welts on their shins – had spotted the man on the horse earlier as he wandered further into the castle. They weren't sure who he was, or why he held Quinn's mirror, but they knew that Quinn had wanted to deal with him personally, so they let him go and hoped he would find her room, eventually. And if not, there was also the possibility that he could get lost and end up starving to death.

He quietly surveyed the fight, waiting for somebody else to get close enough, when he caught a slow creeping out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find a hunched-over Rachel, closely followed by who he'd come to identify as Rachel's father, pulling the same position as his daughter. Both their eyes widened as they silently stared at each other. From across the room, Kurt could easily read the question that was written on the woman's face, and he nodded. Rachel smiled at the candelabra, and then headed in the opposite direction, on her way to the royal chambers. But first, she'd have to make a quick stop.

* * *

Despite the distance, Quinn could clearly hear the echoes of the battle that raged on from the first floor. Still, she sat, and she waited. She knew it was only a matter of time until he found her. She was ready. And if it turned out that the hunter had done something to Rachel, Quinn was going to kill him.

She was ready to pounce at the sound of the door being pushed open, but stopped herself at the last second when she realized it wasn't the man she was waiting for.

If she wasn't so on edge at that moment, her tail would've started to wag as Rachel fully entered the room and ran to Quinn. She collapsed on top of her in a formless hug, and Quinn welcomed it fully, lost in the moment. But soon, reality struck her hard across the face, and she pulled away from Rachel.

"Rachel, you have to leave. It isn't safe here, and I don't want you getting hurt."

Rachel crossed her arms, "Has everyone forgotten that I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself?"

Quinn looked much like a guilty puppy, and she nodded at Rachel in agreement. "You're right, really. I just…I don't want to risk losing you."

She smiled sweetly at the beast and gently placed a hand on her cheek, "You won't lose me. Besides, right now, I'm more worried about losing _you_."

Quinn sighed and stood to her full height, "What the hell happened when you got to town? Is your father alright?"

"He's perfectly fine, thank you. I hid him somewhere where I'm sure the mob won't go looking, but I also gave him a weapon and we discussed defensive techniques, just in case."

For a moment, Quinn's mouth hung open and not a sound could escape. "You brought him _here_?"

"I didn't have much of a choice! What if I got here only to find out that Finn had accomplished his task and was already on his way back to check if we were still locked in the cellar?"

Quinn raised a lone eyebrow, "I feel like I'm missing a lot of the story."

* * *

Pieces of busted furniture lay scattered throughout the room, while the group of men was starting to fall back. A few had actually snuck out of the battle and headed home when Ms. Jones started to fire off her second round of tea. Two of the more opportunistic villagers decided to start searching the castle when they suddenly found themselves outside of the fight. They made their way up stairs and through hallways until they reached what they thought would be a likely place to store treasures.

With the stormy weather blocking the moon, the room was almost pitch-black. They stumbled through the doorway, arms held out to feel around and grab whatever they could find. One of the men bumped up against something hard and ran his hand across it until he hit a doorknob. Grinning, he turned the knob slowly, only to have the door be pushed open from the inside and a dark figure to jump out at him. It swung _something_ high above its head and started screaming at the men. And almost as soon as they came in, they went running out of the room and out of the castle.

After he was sure they were gone, Hiram chuckled and turned toward the wardrobe. "Uhm, thank you for your help."

Tina smiled, "Don't mention it."

Back downstairs, Brittany walloped another leg, but only received a sliver of self-gratification out of it. Both sides were growing tired and didn't know exactly how much longer they could keep this up.

"We may actually be in luck," Kurt spoke to the other three as Ms. Jones rolled closer and Brittany found her way next to the side table. "Rachel is here. She's probably with Quinn, right now."

Jesse side-eyed him as Ms. Jones piped up, "What about Horse Boy?"

Kurt froze.

"Shit."

* * *

After Rachel finished her quick retelling of recent events – save a few points, like her feelings for the beast being revealed – Quinn stood quietly, mildly shocked, before barking out a sarcastic laugh.

"I don't suppose this was the adventure you were looking for, was it?"

Rachel's smile was small but genuine, and only a touch sad, "Not exactly. I'm glad you're okay."

Quinn was about to move closer to Rachel, but a sudden terrible sting in her arm stopped her. Groaning in pain, she looked down to find an arrow sticking out of her arm.

With fire in his eyes and a sneer on his face, Finn strode towards Quinn, almost completely unaware of the extra body in the room. Rachel tried to interfere, standing in front of Quinn to block his path, but Finn knocked her aside and put another arrow in the beast.

Quinn watched as Rachel crumpled to the floor, and in a fit of protective rage, she used her good arm to swipe at the hunter as soon as he got close enough. His voice came out in a hissed cry as he jumped back. Blood came forward from the shallow cut on his chest, the color blending in with the rest of his shirt. He laughed, darkly, enjoying the reaction he was getting from the beast.

"Go ahead, show Rachel what a monster you _really_ are," he growled. "I can't _wait_ to tell our children the tale of how I defeated the beast that tried to take their mother away from me. And when they look above the fireplace, they'll stare at your mounted head in wonder."

Finn charged at Quinn, and before she could react, they both ended up crashing through the windows. Rachel shook herself off and rushed to the windows to find the both of them sparring on the roof. Quinn's roars mixed with the thunder as Finn reigned upon her with heavy, animalistic blows. She backhanded him, and he went flying to the other side of their small platform. He was down long enough for her to rip out the arrows that were lodged in her arm and shoulder with a grunt. Either he was a poor marksman, or his anger was greatly affecting his aim, and Quinn was thankful either way.

He sprang up and shot another arrow, this time hitting Quinn in the thigh. She grunted, going down on her knee, and Finn took this opportunity to search his surroundings. Even he knew that he wasn't going to win this with just the crossbow. He needed to try something different; something with force. All around them were crumbling gargoyles and other stone carvings and small pillars that decorated the roof. He spotted a pillar close to him that looked like it was ready to fall off, and with all his strength, he broke it the rest of the way.

With his new weapon wielded, he charged at Quinn, ready to swing. He ended up getting a shot to her ribcage and another to her good shoulder, before the beast growled and grabbed the stone out of his hands. She hit him with it, square in the jaw, and pushed him away before throwing the pillar off the roof and into the darkness below the bridge. With him away, she took the time to pull the arrow from her leg and managed to stand again.

Spitting the blood out of his mouth, Finn staggered to his feet. His body was getting tired, but he couldn't feel the pain. He barreled towards the beast, preparing to collide with her, and when she held her arms out to grab him, that's when the hunter hit his target.

From the window, Rachel watched as Finn fired an arrow at the last second, and all of the air rushed from her lungs as she watched it plunge into Quinn's heart, before the man tackled her to the ground.

Quinn's mighty roar trickled out into a broken whimper as Finn landed his final blow, and they both tumbled to the ground. Any thoughts of celebration were cut short as the force of Finn's tackle pushed him and the barely coherent Quinn off of their platform and down the slanted roof. Both too weak to put a stop to it, they just watched the world spin around them as they slid down the roof; occasionally bumping into stone carvings on their way down.

Rachel watched in horror as Finn and Quinn flew off of the sloped roof. Quinn landed in a slump on the ground, merely inches away from her head colliding against the stone of the bridge, which surely would have ended her there.

Finn skidded against the ground when he landed, and all too late did he realize where he was heading. His mind close to drifting off, his body finally stopped at the ridge of the drop-off next to the bridge. He only started to react when he sensed the crumbling underneath him. He tried to crawl away, but his maneuvering ended up with him hanging off the edge. Now more alert than ever, Finn's arms grabbed and scrambled at the edge while his legs dangled below him; too weak to do much of anything. He called out for help as loud as he could, and even if Quinn _wanted_ to help, there wasn't anything she could do in her injured state. Most of the men had retreated, thinking they'd hear what happened to the beast from Finn and the other men, in the morning. And the ones that were left were also in no condition to help the man. All they could do was painfully limp out the door just in time to watch as Finn slid back further and further, until all there was left to grab was some crumbling rock on the very edge. And then he was gone.

Rachel let out a panicked shriek and raced through the halls, down the staircase, and out the door. She pushed past the villagers that stood and stared at the beast and where Finn once was. She kneeled beside Quinn, and tears quickly sprung to her eyes when she realized that Quinn was still holding on – if only by a thread.

"You came back." It came out in a choked whisper that Rachel had to struggle to hear.

She gave Quinn a watery smile, "I promised I would."

The servants and Hiram watched from the entrance to the castle – deciding to give the two some space – as Rachel carefully removed the arrow from Quinn's chest and replaced it with the pressure of her hand, while the other tried to wrap around Quinn's paw. The beast made a low grunting noise, but smiled at Rachel in thanks. She knew she didn't have much time left, but it was nice to know that Rachel was there with her.

It came out before she knew what was happening. It was soft and sure, and it made Rachel cry even harder as Quinn closed her eyes.

"I love you."

With their goal accomplished, and starting to feel uncomfortable, the townspeople decided it was time to head home. They left, one by one, until it was just Rachel, Quinn, and the kill of crows. The crows hopped around for a moment, surveying the area. Then, as one, they lifted their wings and flew off into the sky. They circled around the castle's towers, almost making a show of it, before diving next to Rachel and Quinn in a heavy, black heap. The darkness gave way to tiny cracks of light, until shimmering gold exploded through. The brief time Rachel could take her eyes off of Quinn's lifeless body, she stared up in awe at the near-blinding light as it shifted and gave way to a cloaked figure. Pale hands tore away the hood to reveal Emma, her emerald eyes sparkling with tears of her own. She kneeled before Rachel, on the opposite side of Quinn, and lightly removed Rachel's hand to thoroughly examine the wound.

"Please," Rachel cried, "isn't there something you can do? Don't you have a spell, or something? She has to be okay!"

"I-I don't know if I can, Rachel."

For what felt like forever, they sat in the rain-soaked dirt, completely silent. Emma never moved her eyes from the hand that deathly gripped onto Quinn's. Rachel broke the silence, a sob escaping her lips, along with an almost silent utterance that was drowned out by the pounding rain.

Emma hesitated, "What was that?"

Rachel looked her straight in the eyes, her hand unconsciously tightening its grip, "I said I love her."

The woman was still for a moment, before quickly nodding and pulling out her wand. "That's all I needed to hear. Would you mind giving me your hand, please?"

Confused, Rachel reached out with her hand stained with Quinn's blood, refusing to let go of her hand. The enchantress briefly recoiled, before taking a deep breath and grabbing the offered hand. The others stepped a little further out of the castle, all a mixture of wariness and optimism as they watched the woman that they so clearly remembered from years ago.

Emma sat silently in the mud – trying her best not to think about that fact – with her eyes closed and taking deep, even breaths. To Rachel, it didn't look like anything was happening, but when Emma opened her eyes again, they were glowing. She felt an almost burning heat in the hand that was held by Emma, and she watched as Emma gently placed the tip of her wand just over the wound. She started speaking in a language Rachel had never heard before, and then the wand started glowing. The light seeped out and started to cover the wound, and slowly, the rest of Quinn's body. It encapsulated her, and soon Rachel was forced to let go of her paw and look away from the brightness. The light quickly dissipated, plunging the three forms back into darkness.

And where the ball of light once was, there was now a gasping, fur-less, and very much alive Quinn.

The light faded from the enchantress' eyes and, spent, Emma nearly collapsed into the mud. But, she thought better of it and quickly steadied herself. Blushing, she quickly removed her cloak and wrapped it around the maiden, now that she had nothing to cover herself with.

Quinn gave her a confused yet thankful smile. She supposed it was a comfort thing, until she looked down and noticed her new-old body.

"Oh my god." Her voice was soft, if a little nasally, and to Rachel it was like honey.

Quinn looked up and locked eyes with the other woman. They simply stared at each other, happily getting lost in the moment, and making Emma slightly uncomfortable. When Quinn smiled, it was brighter than the magical light, but Rachel couldn't look away. Quinn's hand lightly touched Rachel's cheek, and it felt like lightning coursing through her veins.

Tuned out to the rest of the world, they leaned together. Quinn's hand still on Rachel's cheek, and soft fingertips brushing against Quinn's pale neck, their lips joined together for the first time. It was slow, and nervous, but they couldn't help but think it felt _right_, and they could see themselves doing this for the rest of their lives. They only stopped when an incessant cough broke the mood and pulled them out of their world.

So caught up in what was happening with Quinn, Rachel had completely forgotten about the servants. When she looked to where the cough was coming from, she saw not only her father, but four other people that she hadn't really _seen,_ before – all of which were staring down at their bodies in awe.

"I think I may have forgotten just how attractive I was," Jesse commented, rather smugly.

Kurt looked him over, "It's your only positive trait, really."

Quinn started to shiver, and Rachel suggested that they move back to the castle. Everyone agreed and started making their way there, but Emma purposefully trailed behind. Noting Emma's lagging, Rachel also held back, trying to make it look casual enough so that the others didn't notice. She failed, but they decided not to mention it.

When it was just the two of them at the back, Emma sighed. "Today sure was…_eventful_, wasn't it?"

Rachel, however, decided to cut to the chase, "If you knew how to cure Quinn all along, why did you ask me for help? Why not just break the curse yourself if you had a guilty conscience?"

Emma just smiled, "What's better than earning your happy ending? Besides, it's not that I didn't know how. I just needed a catalyst to make it work." Rachel's look of confusion was enough to get Emma to explain further, "You helped teach her her lesson, and because of that, you formed a bond. Without you, and your link to Quinn, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. Honestly, I'm surprised I did as much as I did…" The last sentence came out as a barely heard mumble.

Rachel stopped in her tracks, "I keep hearing about this lesson, but nobody's ever told me what it is. What did I supposedly teach Quinn?"

Emma, just before she entered the castle, turned to look at the other woman. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return." With that, she walked inside, and Rachel quietly followed.

She found the foyer filled with Emma, and Hiram, and the servants – including Tina – all talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. Rachel was just in time to see Quinn descend the stairs in her old royal attire. It was just like how the first meeting was supposed to be between the main character and the prince or princess in all the storybooks. But it wouldn't have felt right for the two of them to meet like this, Rachel knew. Because what the two felt for each other was different than the characters in the storybooks; it wasn't love at first sight, but something that bloomed and grew stronger after every adversity. They'd already had more adventure than anything found in a fairytale, and their story was nowhere close to finishing.

She walked through the party to meet the maiden at the last step. Again, they only stared at each other for a moment, welcoming in that wonderful lost feeling as they looked into each other's eyes.

"Your majesty," Rachel smiled, and Quinn's skin rebelled against her will not to blush.

"You don't have to call me that, you know."

Rachel shrugged as she started to play with the banister, "So…what's the plan, now? Where do we go from here?"

"Well, I do have one idea," Quinn hedged before turning to her servants. "What do you say we take this to a less cramped space, like the ballroom? Let's make this an official celebration!" The suggestion was met with applause before they all made their way to their destination, and Quinn smiled before turning back to Rachel. "As for us, I'd like you to live here. Preferably with me, in the royal chambers."

Rachel stood, flummoxed, before trying to stammer out a reply. "I-I'm not sure what to say. My- what about my father? And-"

Quinn placed her hand on Rachel's to try to calm her, "You don't have to decide, yet. It was just…something for you to think about. We can talk over everything, tomorrow; we can even involve Hiram, if you want. But tonight, we're supposed to be celebrating." Her attempt at a calm, undetermined look broke out into a playful grin. "My lady," Quinn said as she held out her hand, and Rachel easily placed hers inside it.

Oh yes, Rachel thought as they made their way to the ballroom, their story hadn't even started, yet.


	17. Epilogue

So it's time to close this book once and for all. I want to say thank to everyone who followed along, favoriting and reviewing. And to those potential future readers who only like to check out completed fics. I hope I made this worth your time. If you liked this fic, I also humbly suggest the other few fics I have on here. They're all fairly short oneshots, so you don't have to worry about me completing them. :P

And, hey, if you'd like to here more from me in the personal sense, or maybe just wanna know what my fic plans for the future are, you can find my twitter Yubbzy, or you can check out my tumblr (also yubbzy, because I am very creative). Okay, I think I've bored you enough. Let's finish this, shall we?

* * *

It took Rachel some time to once again become accustomed to the castle. To be specific, it was the castle's inhabitants that threw her off. She was just so used to being the only human in the place, and now there were about a hundred of them running around. She had to re-learn everyone's expressions and putting names to faces. She actually didn't mind that so much, especially when it came to re-learning her love – Quinn was somebody she could stare at for hours. She was glad that Quinn seemed to feel the same about her.

After Finn's death, nobody dared return to the castle, leaving it to once again fall away from the memories of the villagers. And that was just fine with everyone else involved. It turned out things were actually much easier for the castle when nobody outside of it knew of its existence. And Quinn would go to her grave swearing that that was the only reason why she invited Hiram and Emma to live with them – not at all because Rachel had asked for it.

They set up a workshop for Hiram where the dungeon was, since they decided there was no longer a need for it. It only took him a week to feel comfortable enough to actually go inside it. He became the castle's personal inventor, eventually creating a light source that didn't need going from room to room to douse every night. Kurt was ecstatic.

Emma was given a job as a consultant of sorts. She would help Rachel, Quinn, Hiram, and the servants with any sort of troubles they had. And she was relatively good at the job, too. Just as long as she didn't use magic.

Jesse still didn't have much of a role in the castle, but Quinn had promised that if there ever came a time where the kingdom needed ruling, again, he would be the one to step forward. He acted indifferent about the arrangement, but he couldn't have accepted the offer fast enough. He had to admit, he always liked the sound of King Jesse.

Tina fell back into her routine of being Quinn's personal helper rather easily. And she was a lot more outgoing than she used to be. Her only trouble was getting lost in the castle, but she was easy to find most of the time.

After years of playing the royal advisor nonstop, Kurt decided it was time to take a much-needed vacation. Quinn was a little worried, until she realized his "vacation" just consisted staying at the castle to eat, sleep, and catch up with the tailors. And sometimes he'd take a break from his busy schedule to bicker with Jesse.

Ms. Jones was tempted to leave the castle and set out on a new path. She got as far as getting a job as a barmaid in the tavern, and getting thrown up on by one of the drunkards, before deciding that she really did belong in the castle. It was where all her friends were, anyway. And nobody ever vomited on her.

And nothing changed with Brittany, just like Brittany didn't change after the curse was cast.

After things started to settle, and everyone seemed to finally get back into their normal routine, Quinn came up with a decidedly wonderful idea. She waited to talk about it until one night, after she and Rachel had readied themselves for bed in their newly renovated royal chamber.

"I want to take you on a trip," she said simply, after snuggling into their bed.

"Really, where?" Rachel giggled into her lover's hair as Quinn started to playfully nip at her neck.

"Somewhere…far, far away," she smiled into Rachel's neck as she felt nimble fingers run through her hair. "Anywhere. Wherever you want to go."

Rachel stayed silent for a while, basking in the warmth of Quinn lying next to her. They'd only been together like this for a few weeks, but she found that they both easily slipped into the married life. The happy and tear-filled (mostly due to Rachel and Kurt, but Quinn couldn't deny the stinging of her eyes) ceremony was held in the castle, and hosted by Emma. Afterwards, things had still been too hectic for Quinn to leave the castle as it was, so they never had the chance to officially celebrate their newfound union. But things finally got back to the way they were, and apparently Quinn was ready to travel.

"Anywhere, hm? Can we…sail across the nearest ocean and see where the waves take us?" Rachel's eyes twinkled playfully.

Quinn shrugged, "I can buy a boat."

"Can we take a carriage ride until the horses have to rest, and stay wherever we stop?"

"We might have to bring some extra supplies."

"I've always wanted to be among the stars."

Finally, Quinn paused. "That might be a little more difficult."

Rachel laughed softly as they both snuggled closer to each other, fending off the cool winter air that was seeping through the poorly-repaired window. The one thing the castle didn't have at its disposal was a better than decent glassmaker. But the winter was already starting to give way to warmer days, so they didn't mind much.

Under the covers, one of Rachel's hands found its way to a bare and pale stomach. "First thing in the morning, we'll pack up a carriage. Then we'll eat breakfast, say goodbye to everyone, and then set off on our adventure. We'll go wherever the horses take us."

Though her head was now completely out of the conversation, Quinn replied in hitched breaths, "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Rachel's eyes darkened as a wide grin spread across her face, "I'm glad you think so."


End file.
